Twist of Fate
by Gertrude2034
Summary: On the bus, House told Amber he didn’t want to be miserable anymore. What happens if life conspires to make him happy? Or what if it does the exact opposite? How does House cope with love, beginnings and endings? House/OC
1. Chapter 1A

**A/N:** Hi all, this is a bit of a writing experiment for me. I wrote this prior to Season 5 starting, so there's no link to anything new. Hope you enjoy.

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PLEASE READ!

ADDED NOTE: For all those new to this fic, please note that it is structured to follow two parallel storylines in alternating chapters. So chapter and 1 and 2 are quite similar - setting up the groundwork - and then chapter 3 follows on from 1, and 4 follows from 2, etc. If you've ever seen the movie Sliding Doors, that's the sort of thing we're talking about - similar events happen in the two storylines, but with different outcomes.

Thanks to those reviewers who've written to me and let me know that they needed more explanation to make sense. I'm really glad you took the time to tell me, rather than just give up!

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Jess stretched languidly in bed, her muscles protesting the fact that they'd spent most of the previous night being very active. Busy making up for the fact that during the whole of the previous week she hadn't shared more than a brief _hello_ and _goodbye_ with him. He'd had one of those patients, keeping him at the hospital for hours on end and making him mentally unavailable to her, even when they were in the same room. But, since the phone call she'd received on Monday, Jess had to admit she'd been kind of been glad for the excuse to avoid talking to him. She knew she was being a coward; it was well overdue for her to fess up.

By Friday she'd decided this weekend was it, she was absolutely, definitely and finally going to tell him everything as soon as she saw him next. Except all her good intentions melted when he'd called her to say he was going to be home by five, his voice gruff and tired, but leaving no doubt as to the underlying purpose of his call. She'd felt that familiar tightness in her heart and jolt in her pelvis and had left work in a flurry of excuses, avoiding the usual Friday night drinks in order to get herself to 221B Baker Street as fast as possible. As soon as she'd walked in the door he'd easily made her forget about anything other than the lips, hands and other parts of his anatomy that made her feel so good.

"You know, I think we're getting good at that," House said from the pillow next to her, still slightly out of breath.

"Yeah?" she asked lightly, gathering her dark, shoulder-length hair into a bunch behind her neck.

"Yeah. Almost perfect." His foot strayed over in the bed and his funny-shaped toes stroked her calf, as tender a gesture as he ever sunk to.

"_Almost_ perfect?" Jessica asked, turning to him, her green eyes open wide with surprise.

"Well you know what they say: practice makes perfect."

"Ah." She nodded sagely. "So more practice needed then?"

"_Lots_ more," he promised.

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, his skin catching some of the morning light that was sneaking in through the closed curtains. The sight of his shoulder muscles playing under his skin was enough to send a shot of desire through Jessica, despite her very recent satisfaction.

"But I need a nap first," he said sleepily. "And then some breakfast."

He snuggled himself into the pillow and closed those compelling blue eyes of his. Jessica couldn't help but give a secret smile. As obtuse as it was, any reference he made to a future together always made her happy. Greg House was the best thing that had happened to her in a very, very long time.

She stretched again and tried to make herself more comfortable amongst the rumpled sheets, but pulled a face as her legs rubbed together and she felt the combined fluids of their lovemaking, wet and sticky on her thighs. She hated that feeling. Although she was quite happy to spend all day in bed, she wanted to clean up a bit first, maybe put some underwear on.

"I'm gonna have a shower," Jess announced to him, and he grunted sleepily in response. She spoke quickly, as if getting the words out fast would somehow lessen their impact. "And Greg? After that, I need to talk to you. I've got some work news I need to tell you." Jess knew it was cowardly to start the conversation while he was nearly asleep, but at least she'd made a start.

Mentally running through the toiletries she'd started stocking at his place, she rose from the bed. But once she was on her feet the room seemed to darken at the edges, stars swimming in from the periphery of her vision. She staggered and sat back down again, hard.

"What's the matter?" The gruff edge in his voice would have made anyone who'd overheard guess that he was annoyed he'd had to ask. Even through her haze, Jessica knew better. Knew that he was like a winning lottery ticket and if you just scratched the surface with a fingernail you found the true value underneath. This was his version of concerned – you just had to know what to look for.

"Has sex with me finished you off? Have you had a stroke? A heart attack?" He was joking, but he propped up on one elbow to get a better look at her when she didn't answer immediately.

"No, I haven't had a stroke or a heart attack. I just felt a little faint. I guess the blood hasn't got back to my head yet."

"Turn around."

Jess twisted around on the bed to face him. He sat up and peered into her eyes, pulling down her lower eyelids, then took her hands in his, examining her fingernails and then her palms.

"Looks like you could be anaemic," he diagnosed.

She shrugged. "I guess that would make sense; I had my period this week and, on top of everything going on at work, it really wiped me out."

He nodded. "We'll get you a vitamin supplement. And let's go to Charlies for a steak tonight. Your treat."

"Ha!" Jess snorted. "_I'm _malnourished, so I get to buy _you_ a forty dollar steak?"

"Fair's fair. You could have paid a doctor forty dollars for the information I just gave you for free."

"Uh, Greg, I work at a hospital remember? I don't pay for medical treatment."

"Oh no, that's right," he said, mock-thoughtfully. "You work in PR at St Mary's General. You give doctors blow jobs instead of money, like the good little Catholic you are."

"Oh! You little shit!" She launched herself across the bed as if to tackle him. He laughed heartily and they play-fought for a while.

Eventually, despite his weak leg, House's sheer weight and muscle strength overwhelmed her defence and he had her pinned to the bed, his hands grasping both wrists above her head.

"Surrender?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Surrender," she agreed. "I'd show you my white flag, but I think I left my panties in the living room."

He chortled a quick laugh and then rolled off her.

"What was your work news?" he asked, watching as she rubbed her wrists to restore the circulation.

Jess swallowed, the laughter in her body suddenly abating. "I thought you were going to have a nap?" she asked, even as she berated herself for her cowardice.

"Yeah, well I'm awake now. It must be something serious if you waited for a post-coital moment to share it."

Jess hated to think that she had been so consciously manipulative. She had been waiting for the _right_ moment, but then in nearly four months there had never seemed to be one. And now it was pretty much the _last_ moment.

"Um." Jess stalled, searching her memory for the carefully crafted words she'd been practicing for weeks. Trying to remember how exactly she had decided she was going to break this news to him.

She took a deep breath. "There's a job going at Princeton Plainsboro. The head of the PR team is retiring. It's pretty much the best hospital PR job in the state."

"So?"

"So… We'd be working at the same place. When you had cases that attracted media interest, we'd be working together."

He shrugged. "We could car pool."

Jess was surprised by his cavalier response, but then the whole working-at-the-same-place was really just the small issue.

"You really don't mind?"

"Done it before. I can do it again. Although Cuddy might not be thrilled."

"What do you mean?"

"Stacy worked at Princeton Plainsboro for a few months."

"Oh." Jigsaw puzzle pieces of House's life suddenly clicked into place in Jess's mind. He only referred to Stacy occasionally, but enough for her to know that she was the most significant previous relationship in his life. She hadn't realised that they'd worked together.

"No one at the hospital knows about us other than Wilson, right?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Well, I just wondered if I need to be prepared to answer questions about our relationship in my interview."

"You already have an interview?" He frowned and Jess's nervousness returned.

"Yes, on Monday."

"So, you're not exactly waiting for my permission to apply for the job then," he said and she couldn't miss the frostiness in his tone.

"No, I'm not."

He looked guarded, frowning at her. But whatever mental process he was going through, he obviously came to the conclusion that he didn't really care too deeply about the situation.

He shrugged again. "As far as I know, Wilson's the only one who knows about us. And actually that's probably just as well if you want to have a decent chance."

Jess tried hard to keep her expression neutral, so that he couldn't see that it was no accident that she'd asked him to keep their relationship quiet.

"If I was you, I'd keep it to yourself until you land the job. Cuddy found having Stacy and I working together a little…stressful. But then, we weren't exactly always…ah…" he searched for the right word, "…_friendly_."

"Really?" This was a complication that Jess hadn't prepared for. She wanted their relationship to be secret in case it had any impact on her chances of selection, figuring she'd deal with it after she got the job. She certainly hadn't suspected that House had had a previous work relationship that had gone sour. _Hmm. That just complicated things even further._

"If you have to come clean with Cuddy do it, just let me know." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "If only so I can prepare for her weeping and rending of clothes in overwhelming grief at the fact that I'm no long available for her."

Jess laughed. There was more to be said, but she couldn't bring herself to ruin what had turned out to be an easier conversation than she'd ever expected. Even though she'd barely scratched the surface. But then, maybe he didn't _need_ to know everything? It was the life they shared now that was most important – she was sure he'd recognise that. He had to know her well enough by now to trust her, to trust her motivations.

She was sure. Mostly.


	2. Chapter 1B

**A/N:** So, before you send me a note to tell me that I've accidentally posted chapter one again, please keep reading. Trust me.

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Jess stretched languidly in bed, enjoying the slight, sensual ache in her muscles. They'd gone all week barely seeing each other: he'd been busy with a patient and, since the phone call she'd received on Monday, Jess had sort of avoiding him. She'd been telling herself for a long time that she was being a coward; it was well overdue for her to tell him her news.

But yesterday when he'd called to say he was going to be home by five, she'd felt that familiar rush, and had left work in a flurry of excuses to get herself to 221B Baker Street as fast as possible. As soon as she'd walked in the door he'd easily made her forget about anything other than feeling good and any resolve she'd had to have that _serious talk _had melted away like her underwear.

"You know, I think we're pretty good at that," House said from the pillow next to her, still breathless.

"Yeah?" she asked lightly, dragging her shoulder-length dark hair over one shoulder.

"Yeah. Still, more practice never hurts." One hand reached over and he ran the back of a finger down her cheek, as tender a gesture as he ever sunk to.

"Ah." She nodded sagely. "Practice makes perfect, so they say."

"So they do," he agreed. "Must be something to it."

He yawned and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. The sight of his surprisingly hard biceps playing under his skin was enough to send a shot of desire through Jessica, despite her very recent satisfaction.

"I need a nap," he said sleepily. "And then some breakfast."

He snuggled himself into the pillow and closed those compelling blue eyes of his. Jessica couldn't help but give a secret smile. Greg House was the best thing that had happened to her in a very, very long time.

She tried to make herself more comfortable amongst the rumpled sheets, but pulled a face when she felt the evidence of their lovemaking growing cold and sticky on her thighs. She hated that.

"I'm gonna have a shower," Jess announced to him, and he grunted a sleepy assent. And at that moment, for some reason, her courage gathered up inside her, all at once."And Greg? After that, I need to talk to you. I've got some work news I need to tell you." Jess knew it was cowardly to start the conversation while he was nearly asleep, but she felt a little sick about what it was she had to tell him. Hopefully she'd be able to build up her courage in the shower.

Mentally running through the toiletries she'd started stocking at his place, she rose from the bed. And then the room seemed to darken a little, stars swimming in at the periphery of her vision. She staggered and sat back down again, hard.

It was Saturday, and she was due to start a new round of contraceptive pills that day. She couldn't remember whether or not she had any left in his bathroom. But that wasn't what had knocked the breath out of her. That was just the thought that sparked the next thought, which had then pretty much wiped out all her thoughts.

"What's the matter? Has sex with me finished you off? Have you had a stroke? A heart attack?" He was joking, but he propped up on one elbow to get a better look at her when she didn't answer immediately.

"No, I haven't had a stroke or a heart attack." She paused. _Tell him now or wait?_ Her shock didn't allow for anything other than blunt honesty. "Or my period."

She sat there, her back to him, and although she couldn't see his face she could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah," she agreed, still not facing him.

"When were you due?"

"Monday or Tuesday."

"It's _Saturday_," he said accusingly.

She turned to look at him, feeling defensive. "I know that! I've been…busy." It sounded pathetic even to her. She'd been working twelve-hour days all week. The fact that her period hadn't arrived had just…not occurred to her. Until now.

"Have you peed this morning?"

"What? No."

He rose, groaning when he put his weight on his bad leg and hurriedly began to dress.

"Well, _don't_," he ordered. "Hold it in. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Of course Jessica was then immediately seized by the urgent and desperate need to go to the bathroom. But he was right – as usual. She tried to distract herself. It wasn't like she didn't have anything else to think about.

He left without saying another word and Jessica heard the roar of the motorbike as it took off down the street. It felt like just a moment later when she was startled by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut again. She hadn't moved – just stared at the wall, her mind blank. She wondered exactly how many road rules he'd broken on the drive to and from the drug store.

He walked into the bedroom, still wearing his leather jacket. He held up a bulging brown paper bag.

"Shall we?" he said, as if he was asking her to dance. The idea struck her as funny and she laughed, just a little. She didn't have any idea of what the appropriate response should be to this moment in her life.

Rising from the bed, she grabbed the bag from him, heading to the bathroom. She was just closing the door when his foot stopped it and she realised he was barely half a step behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply. "It's not the Olympics. You don't have to worry about me switching samples." Sure, they'd been sleeping with each other for close to four months now. He'd even met her mother – begrudgingly and briefly, but he had. Even still, they hadn't got to the using-the-bathroom-in-front-of-each-other stage.

He rolled his eyes and shoved the bathroom door open wider, pushing her gently into the small room in front of him.

"Two tests, two lots of instructions," he said condescendingly. "It'll be faster if you read one lot and I read the other. I imagine the quicker you get to pee the happier you'll be."

"You mean you don't already know exactly how they work?" she said derisively. "And here I thought you knew everything."

"You wanna know how they work?" He posed and took a lecturing tone. "Okay, home pregnancy tests are lateral flow immunochromatographic assays that detect human Chorionic Gonadotropin–"

"Shut up," she muttered, slapping him on the arm. She couldn't help half a smile, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Let's just get this over with." She opened the bag and pulled out two discreetly pastel-coloured boxes, handing one to him and opening one for herself. They were quiet for a minute or two as both read through the highlights from the extensive information leaflets in each box.

About halfway through, Jess sighed and gave up on the complex instructions that seemed like nothing more than litigation-avoidance by the pharmaceutical company. "I'm not reading any further. It's simple. Pee on the stick and this one gives you a blue cross in the little window after five minutes if it's positive. Yours?"

"Same deal. Two blue lines, though."

"Right. There's two in each box. I'll do one from each."

House handed her the plastic stick from his box and then sat down on the edge of the bath. Jessica sighed, but figured peeing was a higher priority than the fight she knew would be required to get rid of him.

Despite his presence, she completed her tasks without difficulty and placed the two plastic sticks side-by-side on the sink, not making eye contact with him. That wasn't too hard because he was staring at the floor, spinning his cane in his hands, looking…worried.

"I'm gonna have a shower." Jess's voice sounded loud breaking into their tiled silence.

"What?" He looked up sharply.

"I need a shower and I've got five minutes. I can be quick." Jessica knew that five minutes sitting in the bathroom with him, watching the second-hand tick around his watch would be unbearable.

The hot water was soothing and while she was doing something as banal as squirting shower gel into her hand and washing her body she could ignore any other thoughts. She deliberately avoided soaping her stomach, knowing House could see her outline through the glass shower screen: she didn't want him thinking she was getting all maudlin. Because she wasn't. Of course, if this was anything like last time, that _might_ happen, but for now she was still completely blank.

When she stepped out of the cubicle, he hadn't moved, still sitting on the bath, spinning his cane. But he looked up at her and she knew.

"Shit," she said quietly and he nodded once, brusquely. She wrapped the towel tightly around herself.

"It could be a false positive," he said. "You need a blood test."

Obviously both of them were going to ignore the infinitesimal chances of two false positives from two different tests, Jess decided.

"I'll make an appointment for Monday."

"Your doctor at _your_ hospital?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really want this on your record at the place where you're employed? Do I need to remind you that with a name like 'St Mary's' your hospital believes in this book called _the bible_?" He put a finger against his cheek as if considering something important. "Hmm. Catholics. Unwed single mothers. I wonder how the hospital board will like having one as their media representative?"

Jess shook her head, not wanting to admit that he might just be right. "Greg, patient records are private. There's such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Spoken like a true hospital PR patsy."

She felt sick. It was entirely possible that he was right on the money. With her kind of job, her private life, her health, the way she looked, all of it affected her career. She was the face of the hospital to the world – she had to be the living, breathing embodiment of its ethics and practices. If the hospital found out, would they keep her on?

She could imagine some lab tech or even some junior doctor knowing how valuable the information might be to her superiors – not to mention her enemies; it was impossible to work in a hospital like Princeton General and not make enemies – and how useful it might be for said lab technician to be owed a favour by the powers that be.

And the timing couldn't be worse – what would it mean for the interview she had on Monday? The one she _still_ hadn't told him about.

_Damn._

She stormed out of the bathroom, heading straight for the drawer that held some of her clothes and began to dress. He followed a moment later and sat heavily on the bed.

Neither of them spoke, and once Jessica was dressed she sat on the bed next to him. Close but not touching. Jess was already missing the fact that she'd never be able to touch him in such a carefree and light-hearted way again.

After a long moment of silence, he put an arm around her waist and Jess allowed herself the luxury of resting her head on his shoulder.

"How could this happen?" Jess asked quietly. "I'm on the pill."

"I wish I had a dollar for how many times I've heard that in the clinic," he said with a sigh. "No doctor, I couldn't possibly be pregnant," he mimicked. "I'm on the pill. Yes I missed taking a couple every now and then and I might have had a stomach upset and I might also be taking other meds and these things the Chinese doctor gave me and…"

"But I…" Jess interrupted, lifting her head from his shoulder to look him in the eye and prepared to give her defence. She was intelligent, educated, spent half her life explaining complicated medical terminology to laymen. _Those_ women were surely uneducated, didn't know what they were doing.

"It doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. "It's too late to worry now. My mother would say something pithy about spilled milk and a barn door, but I never really understood that anyway."

Jess laughed sadly, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

"What was that work news you wanted to tell me?" he asked.

His question should have sent a jolt of guilt through her, but life had just taken a sudden left-hand turn. New jobs could wait. "I don't think it really matters right now," she said. Besides, guilt had become her best friend for the past few months. A little longer wouldn't hurt.


	3. Chapter 2A

**A/N:** Sorry. I guess I thought this would make sense without me explaining, but I don't think it did. What I'm doing is two parallel storylines, where similar things happen, but there are some things that are very different – e.g. Jess is pregnant in one story line and not in the other. This chapter goes back to the first story, following on from Chapter 1.

I understand that this is quite different to my usual stuff, but I wrote it to kind of test myself, to see if I could do it more than anything. Maybe I've succeeded, maybe I haven't. I wasn't going to post any more, but some people have put alerts and left nice reviews, so for you guys I'll continue with the rest of the story. Besides, I hate it when people leave unfinished fics. :-) If you don't like it, I perfectly understand and you can look forward to my next fic which is on the way and is more of romance in the style of Change of Heart. It will be coming in the next couple of weeks. Thanks! G.

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House loved Charlies' steak and Jess's possible iron deficiency was as good an excuse as any to chow down on enough expensive protein in one sitting to last a week.

They'd both had huge meals and Jess was just stealing some of his key lime pie – being too full to order her own dessert didn't seem to stop her from stealing half of his – when his cell phone rang. He answered it and rapped her smartly across the knuckles with his spoon at the same time.

The simultaneous loud "Ouch!" from Jess and his own curt "House" obviously confused the person on the other end of the call.

"Hello? House? Is that you?"

"Yes, Wilson," he sighed and made a face at Jess. He wondered if Wilson was having another one of those Saturday nights; the ones where he missed Amber and needed company. Most times it was fine, but tonight House wanted it to be just him and Jess. They'd barely seen each other all week and he still hadn't had enough of her body, her luscious lips, soft hair, gentle hands and slick, velvety…

Just as he was thinking erotic thoughts Jess stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation for the smack and rubbed her bruised knuckle with an exaggerated pout.

He couldn't help the genuine smile that lit his face in response. He never thought he'd have genuine, ridiculous, intimate fun like this ever again in his life.

"—so what do you think?" Wilson asked.

House shook his head and looked away from Jess, realising he hadn't heard a word Wilson had said.

"Sorry, bad line. Say that again?"

Wilson repeated himself, stats about a patient, a weird test result that could be nothing, but might not be either. What did House think?

"I think I need to see it," House said. His pronoun choice was purposeful; he meant the test result, not the patient. There could be something – something small – that Wilson had missed. It would only take a minute. "I'm on my way home. I'll drop by on the way past."

Wilson's gratitude was a little embarrassing, House thought as he hung up the phone. And the fact that he was in the hospital on Saturday evening instead of delegating to one of his underlings was a bit pathetic too. He felt sorry for his friend and made a mental note to invite him over to watch a game soon.

They got the bill – Jess paid, as he'd requested – and then stopped by the hospital. For the first time House invited Jess to come inside with him. Given they were on the bike it was pushing even his bad manners to leave her sitting outside in the cold. And, he figured with a mental shrug, if there was a chance she was going to start working there, it was probably good for her to get a feel for the place.

They went straight to his office and, as if Wilson had a sixth sense for the lights being turned on, his head popped around the office door not a minute later.

House was engaged with the test results Wilson handed him, but he also had one eye on Jess. He realised this was the first time she'd ever been in his office and seeing her sitting there at his desk was uncomfortably incongruent, a blending of the personal and professional that he strove to keep separate.

She sat in his desk chair, spinning back and forward slowly like a bored child, flicking herself in the chair with a gentle push against the desk with her foot. She looked for all the world like a thirty-eight year old teenager and House half expected her to blow a big, pink bubblegum bubble. She pulled her hair together in a bunch and stretched her arms, her breasts thrust forward, and then House had to turn all his attention back to the test results or else Wilson was going to have to repeat himself all over again.

"Does he have a rash?" House asked.

"I don't know. Should he?"

House gave him a doubtful look. "Not if it's just cancer, no. But if it's something else, then a rash might mean something."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jess rise from the desk.

"Greg?" she interrupted the two men gently. "I think I'm gonna grab a cab and go home. You might be a while here."

He nodded and sighed, silently cursing Wilson and cursing himself for answering the phone in the first place.

"You take the bike," he said, fishing the keys out of his pocket and tossing them over to her. "I'll get Wilson to drive me home. It's the least he can do."

She caught the keys deftly and then clapped her hands together. "Yey! I get to ride the bike!"

She grabbed her purse and stood, walking over to him. She put a hand on his cheek and raised herself on tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips, obviously cognisant of Wilson's proximity. House was annoyed that his weekend had been interrupted this way, and if a kiss was all he was going to get that night, then it was going to be a good one. Ignoring Wilson and any rules around the decency of public displays of affection, he wrapped his arms around Jess, pulled her body into his and heard her sigh as her lips parted and her hand went around the back of his neck to pull herself closer.

The kiss went on for a long moment, both of them seeming reluctant to end it. But eventually they each needed to breathe. They stood, foreheads touching and eyes closed, each sharing the other's breath for a minute. He stroked a hand through her dark, silky curtain of hair. Then Jess stood back, gave him a sexy smile, and walked out.

"Make sure your foot doesn't rest against the brake!" he yelled after her. "And it has enough scratches on it – don't add any more!"

She waved the keys in the air in response to his half-concern-half-warning without turning back, heading straight for the elevators.

House groaned and turned to Wilson. "You'd better be billing this patient big time, because you owe me a bottle of Lagavulin for this."

Wilson cleared his throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Um, yeah."

"Oh for God's sake Wilson." House rolled his eyes. "If a kiss is enough to get you all hot and bothered, you haven't been watching enough porn. Go. Check if he has a rash and then come back and we'll compare notes. In the meantime I'll review the rest of the chart."

House pulled the manila envelope from Wilson's grasp and turned back to his desk as Wilson headed off to do his bidding, no further mention of the kiss.

House quickly scanned the chart, but the very ordinary case of lung cancer was nowhere near interesting enough to keep him focused. Instead he mentally began reviewing the last six months that had lead to this point. He remembered exactly when it had started. _On that damn bus._

His memory of events immediately after the bus crash was still fuzzy and patched. Some things he remembered clearly, others were like a perished old film. Unfortunately, even now, some things he wasn't even sure were real. Some he knew weren't. And for some reason, _those_ were the memories that were clearest.

Like sitting on the bus with Amber when she told him he wasn't dead yet. And his confession to her.

_I don't want to be miserable. _

It was as if the universe had simply been waiting for him to say those words. To admit out loud that he no longer wanted to punish and be punished for whatever crimes he felt required it.

Sure, it had taken time and perseverance, but he'd mended bridges with Wilson. Hadn't been sure it would be possible, and at first it hadn't seemed likely, but time and Wilson's need to be needed – and House's need for Wilson – had won out. Theirs was a perfectly balanced equation that neither of them really had full control of.

Then there'd been the infectious diseases conference Cuddy had forced him to go to – telling him that a trip somewhere sunny would be good for him. He wasn't sure if LA was his idea of a desirable holiday destination, but he'd gone without protesting too much. That was where he'd met Jessica Mitchell, keynote speaker and head of PR and media relations at St Mary's General. Her talk was on managing public interest during an epidemic within the hospital and it had been witty, astute and keenly observed. House had managed to limit himself to two impertinent questions and she'd sought him out afterwards.

House didn't believe in love at first sight, but he did believe in lust at first sight that grew and morphed into something more. That was what had happened with Stacy, after all. Neither he nor Jess saw any further sessions for the rest of the conference and they flew back to the east coast together, causing at least two complaints from fellow passengers along the way. House smiled at the memory.

Since then she'd practically moved in. They hung out together, played together, slept together. Because of her job, she understood his work without needing to be told. And he understood the demands of her career and a schedule even more erratic than his own.

To top it off, _then_ there'd been the new pain specialist who'd joined Princeton Plainsboro and, for the first time in forever, House felt willing to try something new, to see if someone might be able to help. If for no other reason than to improve his stamina in the bedroom. And – wonder of wonders – with a new regime of pills and some physical therapy that he attended with gritted teeth, House wasn't in quite so much pain anymore.

In recent weeks he'd started to get nervous. Life – _his life_ – wasn't supposed to be like this. Easy. Happy. Contented. He just knew something was going to come along and mess it up.

He just hoped this time it wouldn't be him.


	4. Chapter 2B

**A/N:** Thanks for the encouragement guys. My fragile little writer's ego really appreciates it!

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House left Jess in his office and went to gather the necessary supplies and forms. They'd travelled wordlessly all the way into the hospital – he'd driven them in his car, not on the bike as they normally would, and with that seemingly minor decision House realised things had already changed. When they'd first met one of the things that had drawn them together was their shared love of motorbikes – Jess hadn't ridden for years and loved sitting behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist. He'd even let her ride by herself a couple of times.

It wasn't until he started to prepare to draw her blood that he felt compelled to break the silence.

"I'm writing you up as a clinic patient of mine," he said matter-of-factly as he tightened the tourniquet strap. He realised this was the first time she'd ever been in his office and seeing her sitting there at his desk was uncomfortably incongruent, a blending of the personal and professional that he strove to keep separate. "I'll put a rush on the results. Should have them later tonight or first thing tomorrow."

She looked away as the needle sunk into the vein in her arm, biting on her lower lip. He frowned and tried harder to be careful – he had to admit he _was_ a bit out of practice. Maybe there was an entirely more practical reason that Cuddy insisted on him doing clinic time.

Jess didn't say anything as he filled out the requisite paperwork. She spun gently from side to side in the chair, holding the little ball of cotton to the crease of her elbow; if it hadn't been for the dazed and shocked expression on her face she could have passed for a bored child.

He wrote "Laura Spencer" on the labels of the vials, his own little joke, and quickly put the vials and paperwork into a small plastic bag.

"Gimme a second." He disappeared down the corridor and around to the lab, dropping off the samples and forms to a bored looking lab technician. Lucky it was a weekend, because the usual staff would all have sniffed a rat straight away: _Dr House lowering himself to deliver samples to pathology?_

When he got back, she'd rolled her sleeve back into place and managed to give him a weak smile.

"Feel okay?" he asked. He hoped she'd think he meant her arm but he saw her swallow a lump in her throat. No. She was too clever by half to fall for that. That's why he was with her.

"Don't really know how I feel. You?" Admirably, her voice didn't waver at all. Must be all that practice she had holding press conferences, he figured.

"Same." House wondered how long it would take before they stopped dancing around this. The blood tests were a formality, he knew that, and figured she probably did too. He wanted to do them because he wanted to know, _wanted to be sure._ Not just hear it from someone else, but see the test results in black and white. _Tests don't lie. _

"Greg, I think…" She broke off and looked away from him. "I think I'm gonna grab a cab to my apartment and go feel uncertain by myself for a while." Then she turned back and met his eyes. "Is that okay?"

He nodded. He didn't really know what to say anyway.

She picked up her purse and stood, walking over to him. She put a hand on his cheek and raised herself on tiptoes to press a light, hesitant kiss to his lips. He felt her tremble then, and did the only thing he could think of: he kissed her back, passionately. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her body into his and sighed when her lips parted and her hand went around the back of his neck to pull herself closer.

The kiss went on for a long moment, both of them seeming reluctant to end it; to end what felt like the eye of the storm, a moment of peace where no difficult information needed to be processed. But eventually the need to breathe, reality, crashed in. They stood, foreheads touching and eyes closed, each sharing the other's breath for a minute. He stroked a hand through her dark, silky curtain of hair. Then Jess stood back, squeezed his hand, and walked out.

House went over to his desk and sat down heavily. He picked up his over-size tennis ball and began banging it against the wall, his stand-by thinking position.

He mentally began reviewing the last six months that had lead to this point. He remembered exactly when it had started. _On that damn bus._

His memory of events immediately after the bus crash was still fuzzy and patched. Some things he remembered clearly, others he wasn't even sure were real. Like sitting on the bus with Amber when she told him he wasn't dead yet. And his confession to her.

_I don't want to be miserable. _

It was as if the universe had simply been waiting for him to say those words. To admit out loud that he no longer wanted to punish and be punished for whatever crimes he felt required it.

Sure, it had taken time and perseverance, but he'd mended bridges with Wilson. Then there'd been the infectious diseases conference Cuddy had forced him to go to – telling him that a trip somewhere sunny would be good for him. That was where he'd met Jessica Mitchell, keynote speaker and head of PR and media relations at St Mary's General. Since then she'd practically moved in.

In recent weeks he'd started to get nervous. Life – _his life_ – wasn't supposed to be like this. Easy. Happy. Contented. Something was going to come along and mess it up.

Probably him.

And it seemed like he just had. Well, his gametes had anyway._ Or…_

House sat up straighter, a new train of thought occurring to him. _Could this be just another, new step in this happy, contented life?_ Daddy House? He remembered his friend, Dylan Crandall, saying that he knew he wanted to be a father because it felt good. And that was reason enough.

House had held plenty of babies in his life; hell, he had helped a few into the world back in his intern days and saved a lot more since then. He thought about how different it would be to hold a tiny bundle that was _his_, something that belonged to him, was part of him.

And Jess. Of course. Her creamy skin and beautiful dark brown hair and sparkling green eyes; the woman who laughed at his jokes and put up with him just the right amount – enough to get along, not enough to be a doormat. The woman who let him put his 

smelly feet in her lap when they watched TV; who would get up in the morning to make him a coffee and bring it back to bed; the woman who every now and then would rip his clothes off and make love to him in a desperate way that made him feel like a desirable, sexy man instead of a miserable old cripple.

Jess, bound to him through co-creation. A permanent link with another person for the rest of his life.

For some reason the thought didn't scare him half as much as he thought it should.

He sighed and caught the ball one last time before setting it down on the desk.

Yeah, maybe life _was_ too good. Something had to fuck it up soon.

Probably him.


	5. Chapter 3A

"Forget about it, House." Wilson was slightly out of breath, as if he'd run up the corridor.

House bounced the ball one last time and then caught it and placed it on the desk. He turned to Wilson with a questioning eyebrow.

"The idiot's drunk. The nurse just found a bottle of vodka in the back of a drawer, he sneaked it in somehow. It explains everything."

"Well, the guy does have end-stage lung cancer. Who's to deny him a little fun?"

Wilson ignored the quip. "Sorry I dragged you in here and ruined your Saturday night."

House took in Wilson's slumped shoulders, his downcast expression. _Yeah, he was obviously not having a good day. _

"Saturday night's not over yet. Want to come round and watch a movie?" House calculated that he could watch a movie with Wilson and still have time to corrupt Jess's body in new and as-yet-unexplored ways before it got too late.

The immediate relief on Wilson's face told House he'd done the right thing.

"Yeah, that'd be great. I mean, if it's okay with you. Do you think Jess will mind?"

"I think Jess will be asleep. I tired her out today," he said suggestively, earning a disgusted look from Wilson.

House was proven right when, about thirty minutes later, they walked into his apartment to find Jess passed out on the sofa. House gave her a nudge.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he said gruffly, lest she mistake it as a term of endearment. "Get up."

She opened one eye and looked up at the two men fuzzily. "Oh, hello Wilson."

"Wilson and I are gonna watch a movie. You can join us or go to bed, but either way you can't have the couch. I'm going to pee, so you've got that long to make up your mind."

Jess sat up, stretching and made a face at House's retreating back as he headed for the bathroom.

"Charming isn't he?" Wilson asked.

"A real sweetheart," Jess agreed sarcastically, rising and stretching.

"Do you know Julie Walters? The head of PR at Princeton Plainsboro?" Wilson asked, taking a seat on the sofa where Jess's legs had been resting a moment earlier.

Jess started, her guilty conscience immediately making her look for hidden meanings. "Not personally, no," she said carefully.

"Oh, I just wondered if you did, having similar jobs and all. She's retiring, you know."

Jess nodded, realising that Wilson was just making conversation. "Yes, I'd heard on the grapevine."

"She'll be missed. House has no idea what she does to protect him."

Jess smiled. "Ah, the fate of all good PR people is to fade into the shadows and let others shine when it's their turn to shine, and then to step into the spotlight and take the heat when it's not." She yawned. "Sorry Wilson, but I think I'm going to go to bed and let you boys watch a movie. I've had a huge week."

"That's fine. Sleep well."

House returned to the living room a moment later. Wilson heard them say their goodnights in the corridor, the sound of a single lip-smack the signal of their goodnight kiss. The sound made him feel sad again; simple affection from a much-loved partner now denied. That, even more than sex, was what he missed most.

House continued on into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Beer?"

Wilson nodded and deftly caught the bottle House tossed to him.

They both took long swigs and settled back on the sofa. House roamed through the channels for a while before finding a repeat of _Something About Mary_ and settling on that.

"You know House, Jess is really lovely," Wilson said a moment later.

"Don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like you're my mother."

Wilson sighed. "No, I mean it. It's important. If you've learned anything from me, from what happened to Amber, don't let this slip through your fingers."

Wilson expected another smart-aleck remark, some joke about his three failed marriages and slippery fingers, but House just took a long drink and then stared off into the distance. Eventually, he spoke.

"I…I'm thinking about asking her to marry me."

Unfortunately Wilson had just taken a sip of his beer and his surprise at House's statement made him draw a breath at the same time. He ended up coughing and spluttering, House banging him on the back.

"I know, I know," House said once Wilson had stopped coughing. "I know exactly what you're thinking. How I'll be a crappy husband, how I've never made it work before, how I'm too selfish too—"

"No, House that's not what I was thinking." Wilson felt he had to interrupt. "I was just surprised. It's not something you've ever…I mean, I've never heard you—"

"Yeah," House said with a heavy sigh. "And it's kind of late to change my mind. But Jess…" He broke off and drained his beer. "Jess is different," he said eventually. "I can imagine it with her. I can see it. Not the whole white-dress catastrophe obviously, but I want…" Wilson could see that the words were hard for House to say. "…I want to make the promise, you know, that stupid 'for as long as we both shall live'."

Wilson nodded. He'd said those words himself. Three times in fact. And he'd meant it, every single time.

"It's the first time I've ever felt that was anything other than a prison sentence. But I don't want to push her into something she doesn't want."

"Knowing Jess, I don't think that's likely," Wilson said. "You sound like you're pretty clear on what you want, House."

"Yeah, yeah I guess I am." He nodded slowly, seeming amazed by his own admission.

"So when are you going to ask her?"

House shrugged.

"Well, when you do, let me know how it goes. I need to take my tux to the drycleaners," Wilson joked.

"Will do." House grabbed the remote and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of a drug-crazed dog chasing Ben Stiller around a living room. It effectively halted any further conversation on the topic.


	6. Chapter 3B

For lack of anything better to do, House wasted a few hours at the hospital on paperwork and internet surfing, but was back at home by the early evening, watching a soccer game that was doing nothing to distract him. He was supposed to have been spending the weekend with Jess, lying on the sofa together, eating take-out, having sex.

Suddenly his weekend was very different.

Suddenly his _life_ might be very different.

His pager went off and he picked up the phone to call pathology, checking his watch as he did. It wasn't even eight o'clock; must be a slow day in there. He made a mental note to complain to Cuddy about pathology being over-staffed.

"This is House. I just got a page for results for Laura Spencer."

"Uh, okay, just sec…"

He tapped his finger on the phone as he heard papers shuffle around at the other end.

"Pregnancy: positive. Hematocrit was a little low, otherwise everything else checks out."

"Good." He hung up without saying goodbye. Of course he hadn't just ordered a pregnancy test. It was the perfect opportunity to do some investigating of his own and he hadn't missed the chance. Just to be sure she was healthy.

He dialled Jess.

"Hi." She sounded tired. Not upset, not joyful, just tired.

"The rabbit died," he said, trying to sound jovial. Of course it was a ridiculous thing to say; no matter what the result, the rabbit had always died.

"Uh-huh. Well, I figured that would happen."

"Yeah, me too." He paused. "You need to take a vitamin supplement, one with some iron."

"What? Why?"

"You're anaemic."

"Oh." She didn't sound surprised. "Guess that's what a life of take-out and skipping lunch gets you."

"Yep, that'll do it." House was possessed with a need to lecture her, to tell her to eat right, to get enough sleep, stop working those long hours. For once he was able to put the mental brakes on before his mouth got him into trouble.

"Want to have breakfast tomorrow?" she asked him quietly.

"Sure." _Was she asking in the sense of sleeping together tonight or in the sense of actually having breakfast tomorrow? _"Your place or mine?" he asked to clarify.

"Let's go out."

_Just breakfast, then. _"Okay. Cafe on the corner down from me? The one with the good blueberry pancakes? Ten?"

"See you then."

* * *

--

Wilson was bored. He'd been at the hospital for most of Saturday with a patient who'd turned out to have been sneaking vodka into the hospital. It had been causing all kinds of weird symptoms and Wilson had been about to call in House for a consult until a nurse uncovered the bottle hidden in a drawer. It was now evening and the night stretched emptily ahead. He hadn't had dinner and he was feeling cooped up and lonely. It had taken him a while to recognise the signs, but he knew now that if he didn't do something to shake himself out of this, he'd sink into a depression and starting thinking about Amber and end up feeling even worse.

He called House. He knew that House would be with Jess, he always was these days, but the pair of them had been patient enough to let him play the third wheel on occasion and he hoped tonight might be the same. As far as Wilson knew, he was the only one at the hospital who knew about Jess, and he felt kind of privileged about that.

When he called he was surprised to find out that Jess wasn't there. House was watching sport and had just ordered a pizza, so Wilson's timing couldn't have been better. In fact, he ended up arriving at the same time as the delivery guy.

House opened the door to their two faces.

"Great, you can pay." He turned back to the sofa.

Wilson was too pleased about being out of his hotel room and finding his friend alone that he didn't care and gave the guy a generous tip.

"Where's Jess?" Wilson asked as they tucked into pizza.

"Home. Having time to herself," House said around a mouthful.

Wilson picked up on the vague tone, but didn't press. If they'd had an argument, well, he wasn't really sure that he wanted to know.

House grabbed more beers from the fridge and surfed the TV for a while until they found a repeat of _Something About Mary_ and settled in. The only words they exchanged were requests for beers and comments about the movie, both laughing loudly at the same scenes.

It wasn't until Wilson went to the bathroom after his third beer that he discovered what must have been the true reason behind Jess's absence. He stared at the plastic sticks on the sink for a long while. One had faded and the result was impossible to tell, but the other was obviously, blaringly positive. He wondered how it would be possible to forget about something like this sitting in your bathroom, but then his friend's attention to housekeeping had never been sharp.

Wilson wondered what to do, given that House hadn't said anything. He knew as soon as House came into the bathroom he'd see them and know that Wilson had seen them too. There was no avoiding it.

"So…it's probably not all that hygienic to leave urine-soaked pregnancy tests on your bathroom sink," Wilson said, returning to the living room. He'd decided that a joking approach would leave House with a few options – he could make a joke in return to let Wilson know the subject was off-limits or he could open up the conversation.

"I must say something to the maid," House muttered.

_Right, so not up for discussion then. _Wilson sat back down on the sofa and collected his beer.

It was about ten minutes before House picked up the remote and muted the volume.

"It was positive," House said, his eyes still on the now silent TV. "Blood tests too."

Wilson nodded, not wanting to say anything until he found out the lay of the land.

"I…I think I want this," House said, the hesitation in his tone evident.

Wilson tried hard not to let the surprise show, but he was nowhere near as good at poker face as House was, and it was obvious that his emotions were clearly readable.

House snorted at him. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. What a crappy dad I would be, how I'm too selfish to even pay for pizza for my best friend, how I'm probably not going to last that long anyway…"

"No, House that's not what I was thinking." Wilson felt he had to interrupt. "I was just surprised. It's not something you've ever…I mean, I've never heard you—"

"I know, I know," House said with a heavy sigh. "And it's kind of late to change my mind. But Jess…" He broke off and took a long swig of beer. "Jess is different," he said eventually. "I can imagine it with her. I can see it. I want to watch her get fat, I want to be there when it's born. I want…" Wilson could see that the words were hard for House to say. "…I want to hold it."

"It?" Wilson pushed.

"The baby."

"Not a foetus?"

House screwed up his nose at Wilson and Wilson knew House understood exactly what he was doing.

"Technically it's an embryo right now," House bit back. "But it will be a baby, eventually. At least…" He slumped back in the sofa cushions.

"Jess? How is she handling all this?"

"I have no idea. She's being very vague."

"I guess that's understandable."

"Yeah. We're meeting for breakfast tomorrow. To talk," he added unnecessarily.

"Are you going to tell her all this?"

"I don't know. I guess I need to find out how she feels first. I mean ultimately she makes the decision…"

"Yeah, but knowing how you feel might help her make up her mind."

"I don't want to push her into something she doesn't want."

"Knowing Jess, I don't think that's likely," Wilson said. "You sound like you're pretty clear on what you want, House."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess I am." He nodded slowly, seeming amazed by his own admission.

"So let her know."

House shrugged. Wilson felt a desperate urge to be there at breakfast, to act as the mediator, to make sure no misunderstandings could take place. But he knew he couldn't do that, this was a situation House had to handle by himself.

"Let me know how it goes. I need to know whether to stock up on cigars," Wilson joked lamely.

"Will do." House grabbed the remote and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of a drug-crazed dog chasing Ben Stiller around a living room. It effectively halted any further conversation on the topic.


	7. Chapter 4A

Jess woke up when House came to bed, late, after Wilson had left. His noisy, slightly drunken undressing disturbed her and she was then unable to get back to sleep. She watched him sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest a marked contrast to the chaotic whirl of her thoughts, her guilty conscience marching her like a condemned prisoner to the gallows, forcing her to relive the events that had led to the coming interview on Monday.

It had only started four months ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

Back then, Jess had been nothing less that joyful at hearing the news that in six months Julie Walters would be receiving a tacky gold watch and a lame farewell party with cheap champagne and dried orange cubes of something passing for cheese. She'd done what any upwardly mobile, career-hungry, well-networked PR practitioner would have done: made a coffee meeting with Dr Lisa Cuddy. Surprisingly, Jess had actually liked her.

Dr Cuddy had given her a frank and full run down of what the hospital would be looking for _if_ – Julie Walters hadn't officially resigned just yet – _if_ they were looking for a new head of PR. And she'd specifically mentioned the ability to handle one of their star doctors as a prerequisite – giving his name as if Jess didn't already know exactly who she was talking about.

He had no idea, but Dr Gregory House was pretty much the reason Julie had become such a legend in PR circles. Princeton Plainsboro was rarely in the media in a negative light, _despite_ the fact that they employed one of the most sued doctors in the state. Those outside the PR or journalism professions probably hardly realised what she did – certainly none of the doctors would give it a second thought, especially not Dr House.

And so Jess, carefully calculating Lisa Cuddy's desire to keep the upper hand in their transaction, had asked for her advice. _So, _if_ one did want to take over from Julie Walters, what would she suggest?_ Dr Cuddy had smiled a tight, knowing smile. _Research_, she'd answered.

Jess had casually mentioned that she'd be speaking at an infectious diseases conference in LA next month. _Was Dr House thinking of attending? _

They'd exchanged a look and Jess knew that what had just happened had been a job interview. Sure, she had to meet the board and go through the proper process, but she could see right then, right there, that Dr Lisa Cuddy wanted her for the job. And was prepared to help that outcome along.

_Dr House might be encouraged to attend_, Cuddy had said.

A few weeks later, at the conference, when the voice had piped up from the back of the room with some ridiculous question about whether or not she'd ever deliberately infected journalists to get rid of them, she knew it was him. She'd sought him out afterwards, flattered him by saying she'd thought his questions were funny – all the while really thinking he was obnoxious and wondering if he was worth putting up with for the sake of her dream job.

Before she knew it he'd invited her out for dinner and then somehow, some magical transformation had taken place. He was witty, charming and all together very sexy. He made her feel pretty, and funny, and intelligent and desirable. And in her hotel room later – even now she wasn't sure exactly _how_ that had happened – he gave her the best orgasm she'd ever had with someone else in the room.

Then, back in Princeton things had moved unbelievably fast, but it had all felt so natural. The fact that sleeping with him – let alone basically moving in with him – might not be in the best interests of the job that had been the reason she'd sought him out in the first place? Well, _that_ she had somehow been able to push to the back of her mind. Guilt about it had crept up on her now and then, but until this week, until the interview, she'd been able to live with it, asking him to keep their relationship secret, convincing him it was in both their professional interests.

She knew how sensitive he was behind that gruff exterior, how hard it had been for him to trust her and let himself care for her. Greg House was really a fragile creature. He didn't trust easily. And he didn't forgive breaches of that trust. The fact that there was no way to reconcile that knowledge with her idea that if he learned about this he would simply be able to shrug and move on, _that_ was what was keeping her awake.

Still single in her late thirties, Jess knew from experience how difficult it was to find the right guy. She thought she'd done it once, a long time ago: turned out she was wrong. Big time wrong. Fourteen weeks' pregnant and thinking that a diamond ring was as much a part of her future as nursery wallpaper, he'd walked out, suddenly deciding he wasn't ready for parenthood. Ironic, as it turned out, because the baby decided not to stick around either, and Jess was left horribly, miserably alone.

Perhaps that's why she and Greg had bonded so instantly, recognising another lost, lonely soul. She'd never told him about that part of her history, not wanting to revisit it herself. But it had left its scars on her. Perhaps not as visible as the scars on his thigh, but just as deep and – occasionally – just as painful.

* * *

--

House woke reasonably early – well, early for a Sunday, for him. Jess was still sleeping soundly, but his leg was growing stiff from lying in bed, so he got up and closed over the bedroom door, making himself coffee and turning on the TV.

He stared at it blankly for a while, his thoughts otherwise occupied. Recalling his conversation with Wilson, checking back in with himself to make sure it hadn't been an aberration, that he did still feel the same way. Did he really want to marry Jess?

He did.

He had a ring. It had belonged to his grandmother and he was pretty sure he knew where it was – at the back of the second drawer in his desk. A faded, brown, silk-covered box. His mother had wanted him to give it to Stacy, he never had. But it wasn't really an engagement ring, just a band of alternating sapphires and diamonds. He wondered what Jess would think if he gave it to her. Would she be delighted? Or see it as second-rate to a proper one-carat solitaire? He liked to think he knew her well enough to know that she'd be pleased and touched by the family history – would know that it spoke of a deep, abiding connection. But. His self confidence, his pride, his whatever … The thought of putting himself _out there_ like that, just asking for rejection, was terrifying to the point of paralysis.

Then Jess appeared in her PJs, looking cute and sleepy and beautiful enough for him to wonder what on earth he'd done to deserve a woman like that walking out of _his_ bedroom, sitting on _his_ sofa, cuddling herself into _his_ arms.

"Well you had a big sleep in," he chastised, making out that he'd been up for hours when in reality it had only been enough time to drink a cup of coffee and eat a bowl of fruit loops.

"I was awake half the night," Jess complained, pulling out of his embrace and heading for the kitchen. "I couldn't sleep. My tummy was too full of meat."

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll make you full of meat. Get back over here."

"You're gross." She made them both fresh coffees before returning to the living room and joining him on the sofa. She took a sip and then put the cup down, leaning into him, complaining about the rainy, cold morning.

House put an arm around her and drew her body close to his, a hand sneaking around to squeeze her breast.

"Oh, so it's that kind of morning is it?" Jess asked with a sly grin.

"It's always that kind of morning when you wander around my apartment in these scraps you call pyjamas." House plucked at one of the spaghetti straps of her silky camisole top. He leant into to kiss her and soon their hands were exploring each others' bodies, re-learning the shapes and contours they already knew so well. Just as things were about to move to the next level, they were interrupted by Jess's cell phone.

"Don't answer it," House said, his lips against her ear. "I made that mistake last night."

She shrugged and pulled away. "You know I have to." She reached over to her purse and grabbed the phone, flipping it open. "Jessica Mitchell."

House sat back and sipped his coffee, wondering how she could sound so normal, so professional, given what he'd just been doing to her.

"Well, I doubt one of our doctors said that…" She rose from the couch and wandered off into the bedroom away from his potential distractions.

House could vaguely hear her side of the conversation. It sounded similar to other phone calls he'd overheard her take and House could guess it was a journalist, and that Jess was once again defending one of St Mary's doctors against a patient's complaints to the media.

She returned to the living room with a frown on her face.

"You have to go," House guessed.

"Yes. I'm sorry, they're on deadline and threatening to run the story if I don't get back to them by twelve."

"And you love this job?" House asked. His tone was sarcastic, but it was an honest question. "You want to do this at Princeton Plainsboro?"

She gave him an earnest look. "Wouldn't you want me watching your back if this was you? If Fox News had the inside running from some patient you'd insulted?"

That was it. That serious look. The almost-pout. The sparkle in her green eyes that seemed to be always there, no matter what mood she was in. House knew he was gone. She had him, heart and soul.

She leant over to him on the sofa and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"We'll talk later, right?" She ran into the bedroom and House heard her shower briefly, dress and then gather her things together. With a brief goodbye she headed out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

"Ah Jess," he said to the empty room. "In the ineffable words of David Cassidy, I think I love you."

He got up and went over to the desk, pulling out the second drawer.


	8. Chapter 4B

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who's sticking with me and providing encouragement. I know I'm not making it easy for you this time! You guys are so ace.

* * *

--

Jess had barely slept, watching the hands of the clock next to her bed crawl through the night. She hadn't cried, or laughed, just continued to feel blankly numb. She knew it was because she was too scared to let herself feel. She remembered what that felt like, what it had been like last time, and knew it was better to avoid it. It was better not to care, not to get attached. Because so many things could go wrong and not just medically.

The last time she'd been pregnant everything had been going just as the textbook said it should. Except the concept of being a single mother. Ten years later and she still remembered exactly the words he had used. _I can't do this._

He'd packed his things while she'd been at work, but had been polite enough to wait until she got home before leaving. He'd been the love of her life – or so she'd thought at the time; like a fool, expecting a diamond ring any minute – and the shock had been gut-wrenching: literally.

Always one to have her emotions under tight control at work – it was one of the reasons she was so good at what she did – but it was a different story at home. She'd managed to hold it together right until he closed the door behind him, and then the enormity had hit. Jess had wondered if her heart was actually breaking as she sobbed, but it wasn't until a few hours later that she realised exactly how much she'd broken. Miscarriages at fourteen weeks are messy and painful and require hospitals and doctors and intrusive procedures and – Jess discovered – a lot of crying.

For once in her life, her mother did what mothers are supposed to do and just stepped in and took care of everything. She guessed it was because the same thing had happened to her. Well, not quite the same thing. Her mother had ended up with her, Jess, not a bunch of painkillers and sleeping pills and well-meaning advice to _try again_. But alone, nonetheless.

Now, it was a distant memory. The edges had faded over time. But there was still a primal, illogical connection that had formed in her mind. _Baby equals man leaving._

She already wanted it. She'd known that from the minute the realisation had hit. But she wanted Greg too. And bitter past experience had taught her that she couldn't have both.

* * *

--

House fingered the little jewellery box in his pocket as he walked into the cafe. It wasn't worth much, but the small band of sapphires and diamonds had belonged to his grandmother. His mother had given it to him when he was seeing Stacy, had encouraged him to give to her. But although House bought lots of gifts for Stacy, including jewellery, he never gave her a ring. His grandmother's ring didn't look like an engagement ring. But giving Stacy a ring – any kind of ring – just seemed too…symbolic.

A symbol he was now ready to give, to Jess. _The mother of his child_. It sounded so clichéd, so trite, and yet in the reality of the morning sunshine, it was pregnant with meaning. Just like she was.

For once in his life, he was early. He ordered a coffee and chose a table near the window, away from other patrons. He didn't want to feel that someone was overhearing their conversation.

Jess arrived just a few minutes later and they exchanged smiles when she stood in the doorway, scanning the room for him. He stood as she made her way over and deliberately reached out a hand to pull her to him so he could kiss her. He didn't want things getting off on the wrong foot with an awkward greeting. There was no reason they shouldn't kiss, after all, he'd kissed pretty much every square inch of her skin at one time or another.

She talked about how cold it was and they debated breakfast choices, finally deciding on blueberry pancakes for him, fruit salad for her. She ordered a coffee and he couldn't help wondering if she'd already had a coffee at home. He made his brain shut up.

They continued with small talk until their food arrived and he watched her eat her fruit salad, showing no signs of nausea.

"So, no morning sickness then," he said, half-joking, but breaking their silence about the 50-tonne elephant in the room.

"No, I didn't get it last time either," she answered. Then she looked up at him, seeming just as surprised as he was by the words that had come out of her mouth. She cleared her throat and looked down for a moment as she placed her spoon carefully back on the table. "This isn't the first time I've been pregnant," she said, not quite looking at him.

"Oh." House wasn't sure how that made him feel. Curious, definitely. Jealous? Maybe. When she didn't continue he prompted. "So, what happened?"

"I miscarried at fourteen weeks."

House looked away from her, out the windows of the cafe and noticed that it had begun to rain. It was an automatic response, but his brain filled with possible reasons and diagnoses, but above it all came the thought: _What does it mean for this time? How can I stop it from happening again?_

"When?"

"It was a long time ago. Almost ten years." She looked extremely reluctant to share the details.

"Was it explained?"

"No. They couldn't find anything wrong with me or the…the…" She stopped speaking and waved a hand in the air to indicate the missing word. "But…"

"But?"

"I think it was stress. There were a few things going on in my life at the time."

House knew there had to be a lot more to it than that. "Like what?"

She shook her head. "Just…stuff."

House realised he'd taken on the role of the inquisitor, but couldn't help himself. "_Stuff_ doesn't help me Jess. If you want to make sure you stay pregnant this time, we need to look at anything that could have—"

"_Stay_ pregnant?" She interrupted.

She was staring at him and House felt uncomfortably like an insect under a microscope. He realised he might have unwittingly revealed his hand by that comment and he still didn't want his opinion to sway her decision. After all, why an old, crippled misanthrope would jump at being given a chance for a new life with a beautiful woman and their baby seemed obvious. But just why said beautiful woman would tie herself to the crippled misanthrope was far less clear.

"I mean, if that's what you want," he hedged.

"What do _you_ want?"

The waitress came over at that point to refill their coffees and House was given a few much-needed moments to gather his thoughts. Once the cups were full and the waitress had left, House looked back at Jess. She was still waiting for his answer.

"I don't know." It was a lie, but it was also the truth. He thought he knew what he wanted, but he also knew his own strengths and weaknesses. At work he was always decisive. But this time? This was one decision he couldn't change his mind about. "I'll support whatever you decide."

He reached into his pocket and fingered the ring again. _Was the ring conditional?_ he wondered. Would he only give it to her if she decided to proceed with the pregnancy? Or did he want to give it to her anyway, whatever she chose?

"Well, that's comforting," she said sarcastically, her biting tone breaking into his thoughts.

"What? What do you want me to say?" She knew as well as anyone that his patience had its limits.

"Tell me what you _really_ think." She leaned forward, her breakfast forgotten, her eyes intent on his.

House took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, she was still there, her sad green eyes waiting for him to say the right thing. Whatever that might be.

"I think we still have time up our sleeves. Time to decide—"

His words were interrupted by Jess's cell phone.

"Don't, don't answer it," he said.

She sighed. "You know I have to." She flipped the phone open and held it up to her ear. "Jessica Mitchell."

House sat back and sipped his coffee, wondering how she could sound so normal, so professional, given the topic she was in the middle of discussing.

"Well, I doubt one of our doctors said that…"

House listened in to her side of the conversation. It sounded vaguely familiar to other phone calls he'd overheard her take and House could guess it was a journalist, and that Jess was once again defending one of St Mary's doctors against a patient's complaints to the media.

"I will investigate and get back to you with a statement. No. No, I'm not prepared to make a statement now. I need to get all the details, I'm sure you understand. Yes, okay, midday. Talk to you then."

She returned the phone to her purse and clutched it to her chest.

"You have to go," House guessed.

"Yes. I'm sorry, they're on deadline and threatening to run the story if I don't get back to them by twelve. I knew that idiot Doctor Moorhead was going to get caught one day."

"Moorhead, huh?" he asked with raised eyebrows and a small smile.

"Yeah, stupid idiot keeps shooting his mouth off but, unlike other doctors we know with similar habits, he's very rarely right." She smiled thinly back.

That was it. That little smile. The sparkle in the green eyes. House knew he was gone. She had him, heart and soul.

He plunged his hand into his jacket pocket, searching for the ring.

"Jess, I—"

She rose from the table and leant over to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"We'll talk later, right?" She seemed almost relieved as she turned away and headed out of the cafe, her half-eaten fruit salad still sitting on the table.

House watched through the windows as she dashed across the rain-soaked road to her car.

He put the little silk-covered box down on the table in front of him.

"Jess, I love you," he said quietly.


	9. Chapter 5A

As Jess dressed on Monday morning, donning a suit and carefully applying makeup to make sure she looked the perfect person for the job, her mind was still churning with guilt, indecision and a healthy dose of nerves.

Could she work with him?

Could she work with him _and _be in a relationship with him?

What would happen if he found out that she'd conspired with his boss to meet him so she could put herself in the best seat for the selection criteria?

Life had taught her she couldn't have everything. What choice would she make if she had to?

She loved her job. And it had been the only good thing in her life for a long time.

But would she give it up for him? He'd been fine with her practically living with him; they'd settled into an easy domesticity. But he'd never given any hints about whether this might be more than a fling. In fact, he generally liked to make cynical remarks about no one being able to put up with him. She had the feeling he pushed people until they broke. He hadn't done it to her – yet.

Her job offered security, she knew what was required and she knew she was good at it. Life with him offered her a rollercoaster – ups and downs of equal magnitude – and Jess often wondered if she had the stomach for it.

Could she chose between him and her job? If it came down to that, Jess really didn't know.

* * *

--

House had been about to burst into Cuddy's office with a complaint about his latest patient, but he stopped when he saw who was in there.

Jess. He belatedly recalled that she'd told him her interview was on Monday. He took his hand from the door knob just as Cuddy looked up and waved him away. He quickly stepped behind a pot plant before Jess turned around and saw him too – he didn't want to put her off.

He waited around the corner, listening intently for the sound of Cuddy's door opening, and sure enough about fifteen minutes later he heard the sounds of the women's goodbyes.

Rounding the corner again he waited until Jess had turned her back and headed for the main doors, not looking back. He startled Cuddy by walking up right behind her.

"Who was that?" He was in the mood to play and Cuddy would do fine.

Cuddy jumped and then sighed. "House," she said, the one word somehow conveying her annoyance, frustration and resignation to his mere presence.

"It was Jessica Mitchell. Currently head of PR and media for St Mary's. I was interviewing her for our PR role." Cuddy glared at him. "Did you know that _you_ are a question in my candidate interviews? Whenever I have to hire lawyers or PR people I have to mention you – because half their job is going to be about defending you, protecting you, or explaining you."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "I keep telling you I'm important Cuddy, it's good to hear that someone's finally recognising that."

Cuddy scoffed at him. "As if your ego needed the boost, but all the candidates for this job have been scoping you out. Did you have a short guy with round glasses come up to you in the cafeteria last week?"

House cast his mind back. Yeah, there had been a guy who'd come over to his table when he was having lunch with Wilson who'd asked him some weird questions. House had been his usual rude and dismissive self and not thought of it again.

Cuddy took his silence as affirmative. "Well, he was another candidate. They're all doing their research on you. As hospital PR jobs go, _this_ is the best one in the state. You're part of the reason for that."

House frowned. He got why the lawyers needed to know about him, but he rarely had anything to do with the media. Perhaps, he realised belatedly, that was because Julie Walters was very good at her job.

"How did Jessica Mitchell do?" House asked, deceptively casual.

"_She_ has your number," Cuddy said with relish. "Her answers were perfect and she's the only one I've interviewed who's given any indication she could handle the special requirements that come from having _you_ as a hospital employee."

"Really?" House asked, trying to control his smirk so he didn't let Cuddy suspect too much. "What sort of research do you think she's been doing?"

"Well, if she's done half of what I advised her to do when I met her four months ago, she's charmed you into submission." Cuddy gave him a victorious smile. "Charmed you at the conference in LA, asked you out for coffee, basically learned all there is to know. Seems to me that she's been successful. Recognise her now?"

House felt the pieces suddenly fall into place. Exactly why a beautiful young woman would approach a damaged old doctor at a conference after he'd tried to embarrass her with annoying questions…She was studying. Studying up for her next job.

Rationally, he couldn't believe she would fake her feelings for almost four months – let alone move in with him – just to get a job. But House had the strange sense that the world had just flipped over on itself. The chess master had suddenly found himself as nothing more than one of the pawns in the game.

"You don't want to hire her, Cuddy," House said. The words came out of his mouth almost automatically. Life had taught House to strike back; that a good offence was the best defence.

"Why?" Cuddy's hands were on her hips, the perfect aggressive stance.

"Remember how much fun it was when Stacy worked here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Cuddy looked at him, confused. Then she slumped. "Oh God, you're sleeping with her," she groaned.

House, retreating behind his usual mask of black humour, gave her a leering look. "There's not much _sleeping_ going on."

"Great, thanks House." Cuddy looked pissed. "She was the best candidate. I wanted her for the job from the start. But there's no way I'm having a repeat of the Stacy debacle." Cuddy turned on her heel and marched back into her office, slamming the door.

House stood in the corridor for a while, thinking. Feeling a sick sense of pleasure that he'd cost Jess a new job in return for her betrayal. But the glee was muted by his hurt and sadness. If he'd been a piece of research to her, a stepping stone to her next job, then just how hilarious would his marriage proposal have been? She'd have laughed in his face. He sent a quick thanks to whatever omnipotent being may or may not have been paying attention that he'd only spilled his guts to Wilson and vowed to put the ring back in the drawer as soon as he got home.


	10. Chapter 5B

Since Saturday, one of the many things weighing on Jess's mind was whether or not to go to her interview at Princeton Plainsboro. The events of the weekend had almost wiped it from her mind, but not quite. The appointment, ten am on Monday, had been written into her diary for almost a week now and she still hadn't got around to telling Greg about it.

As far as she was aware, it was illegal not to hire someone because they were pregnant, but she felt ethically dubious about going along without revealing her status – not that she even really knew what that was yet. Still if she got the job, they'd find out once they did the medical. It might also be relevant to disclose personal relationships with other PPTH employees, but as she'd been doing all along, she was able to rationalise that as being private – this was about her professional life and she'd deal with it after she'd signed the contract. But it was all way, way messier than she'd planned. In the end, she convinced herself it was _just an interview_ and not her dream job that she'd been working on getting for months.

She needed to tell him. The background to it all, as well as the simple fact of the interview. But now they had so much bigger things to think about.

After their unexpectedly abbreviated breakfast, Jess had ended up spending most of the day at the hospital. She'd sent him a text message in the evening – knowing it was cowardly – saying that she'd been held up and would call him the next day. She needed a little more time to herself _and_ she needed time to prepare for the interview.

Thankfully she got a better night's sleep and didn't look quite so pale and sickly as she got ready for the day ahead. She put on her best suit and spent a long time on her hair and make-up. Her job meant she was part TV journalist, part ambassador, part doctor and part peacemaker. She had to be prepared to step into any of those roles at a moment's notice: stand in front of a camera and give a statement, meet and greet wealthy donors, explain complex medical procedures in everyday language to journalists, resolve complaints and crises between the hospital and the world.

She loved every minute of it.

And Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was the pinnacle of the medical PR profession in the state, if not the country. They were on the cutting edge of medicine: new procedures, the most critical patients, experimental surgeries and drug trials; it was all happening at PPTH. The gnarled but incredibly experienced Julie Walters had been clinging to her post there for years. Jess wanted the job with every fibre of her being. And she'd done what was required to be the top candidate when it came to the interviews.

She rested a hand lightly on her stomach. Only that hadn't gone quite as she'd expected.

* * *

--

House had been about to burst into Cuddy's office with a complaint about his latest patient, but he stopped short when he saw who was in there. _Who he thought was in there._

He peered in through the windows none-too-discreetly to double-check and discovered he was right, it was Jess.

_Why would Jess be in his boss's office? _All sorts of ideas went through House's head, including that she was there to rat on him, to tell Cuddy that she was pregnant and he wasn't being supportive enough. Or that there was something wrong with Jess and Cuddy was her doctor. Or that Cuddy had found out about them and ordered Jess to see her.

None of them made sense.

Cuddy saw him and waved him away, and House disappeared behind a pot plant before Jess could turn around and see him too.

He waited around the corner, listening intently for the sound of Cuddy's door opening, and sure enough about fifteen minutes later he heard the mute sounds of the women's goodbyes.

Rounding the corner again he was quick enough for Jess to just spot him as she shook Cuddy's hand in farewell. Her eyes widened when they met his and he was about to pounce on them both when the look in Jess's eyes stopped him. It was pleading, warning, and sorrowful all at once. He gave a short nod and halted his steps, waiting until the women parted and Jess headed for the main doors, not looking back.

He startled Cuddy by walking up right behind her.

"Who was that?"

Cuddy jumped and then sighed. "House," she said, the one word somehow conveying her annoyance, frustration and resignation to his mere presence.

"It was Jessica Mitchell. Currently head of PR and media for St Mary's. I was interviewing her for our PR role. Julie's retiring."

_A job interview?_ It didn't make sense. Why wouldn't Jess tell him that she was applying for a job in the same place he worked?

Cuddy glared at him again. "Did you know that _you_ are a question in my candidate interviews? Whenever I have to hire lawyers or PR people I have to mention you – because half their job is going to be about defending you, protecting you, or explaining you. All the candidates for this job have been scoping you out. They're all doing their research on you. As hospital PR jobs go, _this_ is the best one in the state. You're part of the reason for that."

"And how did Jessica Mitchell do?" House asked, deceptively casual.

"Well _she_ has your number," Cuddy said with relish. "Her answers were perfect and she's the only one I've interviewed who's given any indication she could handle the special requirements that come from having _you_ as a hospital employee. She's obviously done her research, just like I suggested."

Suddenly the pieces fell into place. Exactly why a beautiful young woman would approach a damaged old doctor at a conference after he'd tried to embarrass her with annoying questions…She was studying. Studying up for her next job.

"You don't want to hire her Cuddy, she's pregnant." The words came out of his mouth almost automatically. Life had taught House to strike back; that a good offence was the best defence.

"How do you know?" Cuddy's hands were on her hips, the perfect aggressive stance. Then she slumped. "Oh God, of course you know."

At first House thought Jess must have let something slip, because he was sure Cuddy didn't know anything about the connection between them. But then he gave a crooked smile as she continued.

"I don't know how you do it, but you have some kind of insane sixth sense for these things. What, can you smell the hCG or something? _Damn. _She's the best candidate. I wanted her to be the one all along."

Despite his anger and wounded pride, House felt a bizarre sense of pride on Jess's behalf.

"Thanks House." Cuddy seemed even more annoyed with him. "Now I just have to hope that there just might be a better candidate out there." She turned on her heel and marched back into her office, slamming the door behind her.

House stood in the corridor for a while, thinking. Feeling a sick sense of pleasure that he'd cost Jess a new job in return for her betrayal. But the glee was muted by his hurt and sadness. If he'd been a piece of research to her, a stepping stone to her next job, then there was no way she was going to keep their baby. He realised he'd better start preparing himself for that outcome right away.

* * *

--

As soon as Jess got out of sight of both Dr Cuddy and House, she leant up against a wall and took a deep steadying breath.

She'd never wanted House to find out that way. Knew the conclusions he'd jump to – the conclusions he had every right to jump to.

She swore under her breath at her own cowardice. _If she'd only told him at the start._ He might have found it amusing, might even have found way to turn the scheming back on Dr Cuddy – now that she knew a little more about their relationship.

But after seeking him out at the conference, just as Dr Cuddy had somehow arranged, Jess hadn't expected to actually _like_ the guy. Hadn't expected the dinner they'd had to end up in her hotel room, hot and sweaty and naked. Hadn't expected to join the mile-high club on plane on the way home. Hadn't expected to be practically living with him a week later.

And she certainly hadn't expected to find herself pregnant with his baby.

Life had been going so well, but it had just taken a sudden swerve and suddenly things were messy. Very, very messy.


	11. Chapter 6A

Jess didn't get a chance to call House until later that afternoon. Her day had become difficult, dealing with the fallout from the story that had aired the day before about the idiotic Dr Moorhead and handling the suspicion from her boss about her absence that morning. Jess insisted she'd had a doctor's appointment – kind of truthful if you thought about it – but she could see her boss didn't believe her.

He didn't pick up. She wanted to tell him that her interview had gone well, that all things being equal she'd be resigning from her job and they could start car pooling in a couple of weeks' time – just as he'd suggested. Sure, she still had to go through a panel interview with the board, but Dr Cuddy had indicated that that was a mere formality.

He came home very late that night, Jess was already asleep, and the next morning when she woke and got ready for work, she couldn't bring herself to wake him. She half suspected that he was pretending to be asleep, but if he'd been caught with a patient the night before, he needed the rest.

She was about ready to walk out the door when she heard him call out to her.

"Jess?"

She walked back into the bedroom and over to his side of the bed, bending over to give him a kiss. He pulled away.

"What?" she asked, concerned.

"I think you need to spend more time at your own apartment," he said bluntly, looking out the window as he spoke.

"What? Why?" Jess was stunned, it was absolutely the last thing she expected him to say. She sank down onto the mattress, noting that he moved from her so they weren't touching.

"I just think it's for the best. We've jumped in pretty quickly here and we need to give it more time."

"What are you saying?" Jess asked. She felt genuinely shocked. _Everything had been going so well._

"Well if we can't be honest with each other, then there's very little point pretending we have anything to base a relationship on," he said.

He wasn't looking at her, but Jess could feel the accusation in his eyes. Suddenly, she realised what must have happened.

"Cuddy told you," she said.

His eyes finally met hers, cold and hard. "Yes, Cuddy told me," he mocked. "Just when were you planning on dumping me? Once you'd done enough _research _to get you the job? Or before the final interview so that you could honestly tell them there was nothing going on between us?"

"Greg, no, that's not it at all."

"Really." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, really. Okay, I'll admit that Cuddy advised me that it would be a good idea to get to know you—"

"I doubt she meant it in the biblical sense," he said bitingly.

"No. But I never intended for this to… for us to…I was surprised by how much I…" Jess was tripping over her words, not typical for someone as articulate as she normally was.

"What, _liked_ me? I was just supposed to be homework. Cram up on the crabby doctor and improve your chances, huh?"

"Well, yes, at first, but then—"

"I'm not ready to hear _but then_, Jess. Get out."

"But…" Jess felt the tears of anger and frustration forming a lump in her throat, but told herself not to cry.

"You were so keen to keep us secret and I didn't mind. Except now I know the real reason. Knowing me would help you get the job. But '_knowing'_ me would hurt your chances. Cold, Jess, really cold. And that's saying something coming from a cold-hearted bastard like me."

Jess could only swallow hard. He was right. It wasn't quite like that but, for all intents and purposes, he was right.

She nodded and got up, leaving him lying the bed, heading to work on autopilot.

* * *

--

"House." House rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair as he answered his cell phone. It was five o'clock and he hadn't had anywhere near enough sleep to have been diagnosing the complex patient he'd been dealing with that day. Thankfully, they'd got to the bottom of it and he was now looking forward to a drink and a pizza. And then another drink. Or four.

"Hi Greg."

He sat up straighter in his chair. He hadn't expected to hear Jess's voice. Figured it would be a while before she called or turned up – if ever. If there was one thing he was good at it was pushing people away and not letting them forget why. But right now, he was tired.

"Jess," he said wearily. "Can round two wait? I'm tired."

He was surprised by the hitch in her voice and the sob she tried to disguise with a cough. He'd never seen her cry.

"I didn't get the job, Greg." Her voice sounded shaky. "I don't know why, but I just got a call from Cuddy. And, I know you're angry with me and you have every right to be because—" She took in a sobbing breath. "I should have told you the truth, I know that. But I need you to believe that I genuinely care about you. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you right back when we had dinner at that conference what I was trying to do.

"I think this is my payback, my karma for not telling you," she continued. "But now all I want to do is get drunk and there's only one person in the whole world that I want to get drunk with. Even if you're pissed at me the whole time."

House paused. He felt a little stab of guilt that he'd cost her the job, he guessed he hadn't really understood exactly how much it meant to her, despite the lengths she'd taken to ensure her success. He _should have_, of course, his job was as essential to him as breathing.

"Are you paying?" he asked.

She gave a sad laugh. "Yep."

"Okay. Meet you at my place in thirty minutes. We're going to Charlies and you're buying me a bottle of outrageously expensive merlot and another of those steaks."

"Thanks Greg."

House wasn't entirely sure whether she should be thanking him. He was still angry with her, still felt betrayed, but now there was an added complexity, a guilt that formed part of the anger.

This was why he hated relationships.


	12. Chapter 6B

After leaving PPTH, Jess didn't get a chance to call House until Monday night. Her day had become difficult, dealing with the fallout from the Fox News story and managing the suspicion from her boss about her absence that morning. Jess insisted she'd had a doctor's appointment, but her boss was obviously unconvinced.

She'd been shocked to see House at the hospital, but glad in a way too. Now she had to come clean – there was no putting off dealing with it, even though they had far more serious things to talk about. He'd probably be annoyed that she'd kept it from him, but if he just gave her a chance to explain; she was sure he'd understand once he heard her side of the story. She'd tell him everything. Right from the first coffees she'd had with Dr Cuddy weeks before the conference in LA all the way through to the interview that day.

But he didn't pick up.

He came home very late that night, but Jess had waited up for him, desperate to talk and to sort things out. He walked in and frowned when he saw her waiting for him on the couch. She'd even poured him a drink, bringing out the old fifties housewife trick.

He sat down next to her, not touching, and downed the whisky in one gulp, letting her pour him another.

"Greg, I need to tell you about today."

He snorted, obviously having made up his mind that there was nothing she could say to explain. She watched him swallow the amber liquid and sighed. "God, I need a drink."

He frowned at her but didn't say anything. She didn't pour herself a drink.

"I applied for a job at Princeton Plainsboro—"

"When?" He wasn't going to make this easy. And why should he, she thought.

"Well, to be honest, I started thinking about it a few months ago. When we met at the conference."

"_To be honest_?" he mocked. "Just decided to start that now, have you?"

He wasn't looking at her, but Jess could feel the accusation in his eyes. Suddenly, she realised what must have happened.

"Cuddy told you," she said.

His eyes finally met hers, cold and hard. "Yes, Cuddy told me," he mocked. "Just when were you planning on dumping me? Once you'd done enough _research _to get you the job?"

"Greg, no, that's not it at all."

"Really." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, really. Okay, I'll admit that Cuddy advised me that it would be a good idea to get to know you—"

"I doubt she meant for you to get to know me _this_ well," he said, taking an obvious glance at her lower abdomen.

"No. But I never intended that either."

"And you're not exactly thrilled that it's ruined everything for you, are you? Who's going to hire an unwed pregnant media spokesperson?"

As per usual, he hit the nail on the head. Jess closed her eyes slowly and realised that she had to face the truth. There was no way she could go any further with the job application. If she stayed pregnant, there was no way they'd hire her because she'd have to tell them the truth; they'd find out in her mandatory physical anyway. And if she didn't stay pregnant, there was no way she could work with him.

"Oh, Greg, I never meant for this to get so—"

"What? So complicated? So involved? I was just supposed to be homework. Cram up on the crabby doctor and improve your chances, huh? Didn't think you'd end up pregnant, though, bet you can't wait to get rid of that little complication. Looks like you screwed up everything."

"But…" Jess felt the tears pressing behind her eyes and forced herself to hold it together.

"You were so keen to keep us secret and I didn't mind. Except now I know the real reason. Knowing me would help you get the job. But '_knowing'_ me would hurt your chances. Cold, Jess, really cold. And that's saying something coming from a cold-hearted bastard like me."

Jess could only swallow hard. He was right. It wasn't quite like that but, for all intents and purposes, he was right.

She nodded and got up, leaving him on the sofa and heading for her own apartment.

* * *

--

"House." House rubbed his eyes, peering at the clock as he answered. He didn't bother checking to see who the caller was. Calls at three am were always the hospital, and generally meant having to get out of bed and deal with a new patient. He was surprised when Jess's voice answered him.

"Greg." It sounded like she was crying. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry. A bit late now, he thought.

"Jess, can't round two wait until a decent hour?"

"No." She took a shuddery breath. "Greg, I'm bleeding. Not much, but I'm scared. Can you come over?"

House sighed and shook his head, even knowing she couldn't see him. _Why would she be scared? Wasn't this exactly what she wanted?_

But he also knew instantly what he was going to do.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Jess had debated about calling him. She was only spotting and that had happened last time too. She remembered that all the baby books had said it was often normal, especially this early, but she was terrified. Rationally she knew that if she miscarried it wouldn't be like before, it was far earlier and would therefore be less physically traumatic, but the physical and emotional pain of the last time still flooded her mind. It was too much to bear alone.

When she opened the door to him, he still looked sleepy, his hair mussed up from the motorbike helmet in his hands. She barely let him get in the door before she threw her arms around him, shivering at the cold of his leather jacket, her flimsy cotton nightgown no protection from the chill he'd gathered on the ride over.

"Hang on," he said grouchily. He wriggled out of her embrace and at first Jess was shocked, then embarrassed that she'd thrown herself at him, especially considering the words they'd shared earlier that night. But he stepped away just so he could shrug his jacket off and then pulled her back into his embrace, a fine-knit sweater giving her much-needed contact with his warmth.

"Are you having any cramps?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head against his chest. "No."

"It's probably nothing."

"I know, I remember what the baby books said. I feel fine, but after last time I…" she trailed off, not ready to go into all the details about last time, as much for her own sake as his.

"Let's go lie down."

They went into her bedroom and House stripped off his sweater, boots and jeans, climbing into bed next to her under the covers. He lifted his arm in offer for her to snuggle in next to him and she gratefully settled in next to him.

They lay together in silence for a long while.

"What do you want Jess?" he asked, his voice a whisper in the dark.

After their angry words, after the sudden fear that she was going to lose everything – again – all that was left was raw honesty.

"I want you," Jess whispered back. "I want our baby. I'm going to withdraw my application for the job at Princeton Plainsboro. I know I can't have everything, but this time you and a baby is _everything_."

She felt him nod. His arm tightened around her.

"Me too."

Jess couldn't decide if she wanted to cry or laugh. It still all seemed too good to be true and she didn't know what to think. So instead, she fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 7A

**A/N:** Only a couple more chapters to go! Thanks everyone who's stuck with this. Appreciate your support and hope that you feel that your perseverance has paid off! Hope you like this chapter - I think it's my favourite.

* * *

--

They didn't speak much all the way to the restaurant and when they arrived Jess ordered a bottle of champagne instead of House's requested merlot.

"Celebrating?" House asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Bubbles. Gets me drunk faster," Jess explained, not wanting to go there just yet.

The waiter poured her drink first and she drained it before he'd finished pouring House's. She put the glass back down on the table and indicated for him to fill it again.

"So, you're up for no-nonsense drinking tonight then," House observed.

"Dutch courage," she muttered.

Jess drank half of the new glass in a single gulp and then put it down. She really did want to wipe her memories of this hideous day from her mind – having been so sure she'd nailed the job, the rejection stung badly – but first she needed to be clear-headed enough for the conversation they had to have. She felt like she should have learned her lesson by now, but it seemed like life was yet again reminding her that she couldn't have everything she wanted. But she hoped she could still salvage something.

"You believe in logic above all else, right?" she asked, pinning him with a stare. He stared right back. She'd done barely any work all day, spending her time thinking about what she needed to say to him tonight. She didn't want to be defensive or pleading, knowing emotional appeals would have little impact.

"It has served me well in the past," he said cautiously.

"Right. So, if my motivations with regard to you were purely about getting a job, why would I continue our relationship past the point of having learned enough to be successful in my application? Especially knowing that being in a relationship with you might actually harm my chances?"

"I don't know," he said sarcastically. "The best sex you've ever had?"

Jess couldn't help a little smile.

"Well, yes, the sex is amazing. But sex is sex. That aside, what else did I have to gain from continuing to spend time with you? I had enough knowledge to ace the interview questions after that first weekend."

"Really? One weekend and you had a complete read on me." Jess didn't miss the disbelief and challenge in his tone.

She rolled her eyes. "_Of course not_. I just meant I knew enough to answer interview questions. Even now, after four months, you surprise and astonish me. I think I could spend the next forty years with you and still not have a clue what goes on behind those eyes of yours."

"Lucky I'm not going to live that long then," he muttered.

Jess's protest died on her lips as the waiter arrived to take their orders. They each asked for steak, both medium-rare.

If only they could agree on everything else that easily, Jess thought.

"Jess, as logic goes, you're coming at this problem from completely the wrong angle," House said as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

"Why?" she frowned.

"I don't care that you studied up on me for a job. I don't even care that we would be working at the same place – although to be honest I'm really not sure if it's a good idea; people tell me that I can be a bit of a prick to work with." He gave her a sneaky look, and she wondered if he had any idea of how sexy he was. But the sparkle disappeared with his next statement. "You should have told me."

"I know, but I…"

"If for no other reason than I could have helped you manipulate Cuddy."

She laughed uneasily. Not sure if his joke was a sign of forgiveness. "Hmm, I'm not sure if your help would be helpful. But I can see why you like her. She's smart enough to keep you on your toes."

He nodded. "She does occasionally win. But only occasionally."

Jess took a deep breath and decided to bare her soul. "Greg, one of the reasons I didn't tell you was that I…" she wavered, wondering if she really had the courage to admit this. "I…find it hard to trust people."

"You find it hard to trust people?" He was mocking her and it was almost enough to make her give up. Almost. She drained the rest of her champagne and nodded her thanks when House refilled both their glasses.

"I know. It sounds like psycho-babble bullshit and I also know you're exactly the same. It's just that, in the past, I had someone I loved and they left. He left me right when I really needed him and I lost everything – I lost him and I lost a baby too." She looked away from his intense stare for a moment, then returned to his gaze. "Nothing meant anything except for my work. I don't mind trusting my work, because it's never let me down. But people have."

It was more about her past than she'd ever shared with him before and she watched as he digested the information. A look of pain crossed his face and she wasn't sure if it was for her or for himself. He reached into his pocket and took out his pills, swallowing one with an entire glass of champagne.

"Let's get really rat-faced tonight, hey?" he said, gesturing for her to drink up.

* * *

--

House and Jess made their way into his apartment, each clutching the other for balance, neither very helpful. Jess was staggeringly drunk, House was pretty drunk and crippled, which didn't help.

"What happened to your singing?" House asked.

"Isn't that what got us chucked out of the bar in the first place?" Jess asked, squinting up at him as they staggered into the bedroom.

"I think it was my harmonies, actually."

Jess fell onto the bed, pulling him with her. He landed on top of her and more from habit than arousal he pressed a sloppy kiss to her mouth.

"Ew, you taste like a bar mat," Jess complained when he pulled away.

"So do you," he replied, rolling off her to lie uncomfortably half on and half off the bed.

"Can't believe you got me this drunk."

"Yeah, like I tied you up and forced it down your throat." House stood up and weaved around the bedroom as he pulled his sweater and t-shirt over his head and tugged his jeans off. "Actually, that gives me an idea." He leered over her, now in only his boxers, and yanked on her top. "Wanna play?"

"Yeah, like I'm gonna let you tie me up. You'll pass out halfway through. _I'll_ pass out halfway through. It'll cut off my circular . . . thing. Then I'll get green . . . thingie . . ." Jess waved an arm in the air randomly.

"Gangrene?" He pulled back the covers and flopped onto the bed, his head falling heavily on the pillow.

"Yeah. That." Jess struggled to sit up and pull her top off, then made hard work of pulling off her black trousers, realising belatedly that she hadn't taken her shoes off first. Eventually she lay back in the bed next to House, still in her bra, panties and socks, and pulled the comforter over them both.

"Ugh. Is it just me or is the room spinning?"

"Don't throw up in the bed," House warned, his eyes closed. "Wanna kiss me?"

"What? You're worried about me puking and then you want a kiss? That's d'gusting," she slurred.

"I don't want you to throw up. I want you to kiss me. Instead. Take your mind off the spinning."

"No." Jess couldn't think straight, couldn't process her thoughts coherently. Couldn't even, at that moment, remember why it was that she'd got this drunk in the first place.

"So you don't wanna kiss me." He put on a mock pout.

"No."

"Wanna have sex?"

"No."

"Wanna get married?"

"No."

_Wait a minute. _Jess's drunken brain struggled to keep up.

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

Jess frowned and then propped herself up on one elbow. "You know, I could have sworn that you just asked me to marry you."

"You're very drunk."

"Yes. I am. Very drunk." Jess nodded slowly. "So are you."

"Not as drunk as you are. I could still have sex."

"You want to have sex?"

"Always." He cracked open one eye to look at her. "As long as you don't vomit."

Jess gave him a lopsided smile. "You sure you didn't ask me to marry you?"

"You sure you don't want to have sex?"

Jess felt the sudden clench in her stomach.

"Oh God, I'm gonna be sick."


	14. Chapter 7B

**A/N: **Sorry, short chapter, but it works better if I break it like this. New chapter up tomorrow!

--

* * *

Jess woke up curled in House's arms. Much as she didn't want to leave the safe haven of his body, she needed to make sure she was okay. She carefully extracted herself and headed to the bathroom, relieved to find her bleeding had stopped.

She returned to bed, trying to position herself as she had been without waking him, but they'd been so intertwined it was impossible. He grumbled as he woke.

"What're you doing?" he complained sleepily.

"Trying to cuddle you," Jess replied.

"Your feet are cold."

"I went to the bathroom."

"And?"

"No more bleeding."

"Good." He stretched and then rolled on to his side to face her, closing his eyes.

She spent a long time just looking at him. Knowing that he hated talking about feelings, hated emotional conversations. She knew he'd be fine after the few words they'd exchanged during the night, but it wasn't enough for her. She needed to be clear.

"Greg?" she prompted and he opened one eye. "I'm sorry Greg. For everything."

"S'okay. Go back to sleep. I don't have to be in at work til late."

"No, I need to tell you something." Jess took a deep breath and decided to bare her soul. "Greg, one of the reasons I didn't tell you was that I…" she wavered, wondering if she really had the courage to admit this. "I…find it hard to trust people."

"You find it hard to trust people?" He sighed. She could tell he really didn't want to have this conversation.

"I know. It sounds like psycho-babble bullshit and I know you don't want to talk about it. but I need to tell you."

He shrugged and rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand, shaking his head to wake himself up. "Okay. Shoot."

Having his concentrated attention was scary and Jess half wished he'd stayed sleeping. _But she'd gone this far… _

"It's just that, in the past, I had someone I loved and they left. I told you that I was pregnant before?" He nodded. "Well, the guy, the father, he left me. He walked out the day before I had the miscarriage and he didn't come back. I lost everything in twenty-four hours. After that, for a long time, nothing meant anything except for my work. I don't mind trusting my work, because it's never let me down. But people have."

It was more about her past than she'd ever shared with him before and she watched as he digested the information. A look of pain crossed his face and she wasn't sure if it was for her or for himself.

"I didn't want to tell you before this, because I didn't want to guilt you in to staying if you didn't want to. I want to have this baby, Greg, but if you don't that's okay. I'm scared about doing it by myself, but I can, if I have to."

He stared at her for a while without saying anything. Then he rose from the bed and went out into the living room, returning a moment later with his leather jacket. He fumbled in the pockets for a while, then dumped the jacket and crawled back into bed.

He held his hand out, and a small, brown-silk covered jewellery box sat on his palm.

"What's this supposed to be?" Jess was genuinely confused. She didn't want to misinterpret what was happening. She knew him well enough to see that he was nervous.

"What does it look like?" he said testily, pushing his hand at her until she took the box from him.

She opened it and gasped. "A ring."

"Exactly. I just can't stand the thought of television viewers watching the news, looking at you and your swollen belly and thinking, '_that poor single mother_,_ what's the world coming to when they'll let any old white trash on TV_—'"

"It's…an engagement ring?" Jess interrupted, still confused.

"Maybe. Yes. No, I don't know. It's a ring. So that…" He paused, obviously trying to work out what words to use. "…So that when they look at your left hand they know that there's a daddy."

"Oh." Jess could feel her eyes fill with tears.

"Is it that bad? I know it's not new. It's probably not worth much but it belonged to my grandmother—"

"It's your grandmother's ring?" Jess was suddenly unable to contain the tears and felt two hot, fat drops slide down her cheeks.

"If you really hate it…" He sounded so uncertain and Jess had never been more sure that she loved him totally.

Jess threw herself across the bed, wrapping her arms around him. "It's beautiful. It's absolutely beautiful. And it will make me so proud to wear it and let everyone know that I'm not pregnant white trash," she tried to joke through her tears.

He pulled back from her embrace. "So, happy tears?" he asked, looking a little more like his normal, confident self.

"Yes, happy tears. Hormone tears. Sorry, I can't seem to hold myself together these days."


	15. Chapter 8A

It was mid-afternoon but the hangover from the night before was still vicious, sitting behind his eyes and making his whole body ache. House sagged back into his office chair and closed his eyes. If every time he fought with Jess they were going to solve it by getting smashed, perhaps marrying her was an even stupider idea than he thought.

He couldn't believe that he'd accidentally proposed last night. The words had just slipped out of his drunken mouth. Despite the fact that her confession last night had touched him, he still wasn't sure if he was going to do it. Her betrayal over the job still bothered him. But if he did, he was going to do it properly. Maybe go back to Charlies – it seemed to be their favourite hangout – get the waiter to put the ring in her champagne glass or something cheesy like that.

_If they ever drank champagne again, that was._ Just the thought made his stomach flip.

The buzz of his cell phone cut into his thoughts like a sharp blade and he answered it, just to make the irritating sound stop.

"House." He rubbed his head as he answered.

"House it's Cameron. I'm not sure whether or not to bother you with this, but I just had a patient in the ER and . . . well, the paramedics said she was saying your name when they picked her up." House thought she sounded nervous. "I don't know why, there's nothing unusual about her case and we don't have a file on her here, so I don't think you've ever treated her. She's just gone up to surgery, but I thought I should call."

Suddenly House felt his body clench in fear. _This was the problem about having people in your life you cared about. You jumped to conclusions, were vulnerable to being blindsided by…_

"Jess?" House asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Yes, her name's Jessica Mitchell." Cameron was obviously surprised.

"What happened? Is she okay?" House asked, already rising and making his way to the door.

"Oh."

In that one syllable, House heard Cameron make the connections. To her credit she skipped the questions he was sure she was about to ask and got straight to business.

"Motorbike accident. A car ran a red light and she was hit."

"I'm on my way."

House hung up the phone and strode as quickly as he possibly could out of his office, ignoring the looks from his team in the conference room.

* * *

--

In the ER, House quickly located Cameron.

"She wasn't conscious when she came in and when the paramedics mentioned it I wasn't even sure if it was you she was asking for, but they said she definitely asked for 'Greg House' before she passed out. So I figured it was worth a call," Cameron explained.

He shrugged, irritated. That wasn't what he needed to know and he wasn't about to give her praise for following paramedics' advice. "The accident?" he asked bluntly. "Her injuries?"

"It wasn't Jess's fault," she explained, pulling House into a more secluded area of the chaotic ER. "From what the police told me, someone ran a red light and hit Jess as she went through the intersection. Thankfully the car wasn't going too fast, otherwise she…well." Cameron obviously thought she'd made herself clear enough without needing to say the words. "She was wearing a helmet, and there were no head or spinal injuries that we could find. But she's pretty badly injured; at least three broken ribs, a broken left tibia, some internal bleeding, probably her spleen. She had a collapsed lung when they brought her in, but we managed to fix that before she went up to surgery."

"She was riding my bike," House said quietly.

He didn't miss the puzzled look that flashed across Cameron's face at that news. But she covered it quickly and nodded. "Well, I don't know how bad the damage is to that.…"

House waved his hand, not sure how to express the fact that worrying about his motorcycle was far easier than worrying about the woman he'd woken up with just a few hours ago.

"I'll take you up to the OR," Cameron offered.

"Don't be ridiculous." House's bite was automatic, a cover for his inability to find whatever emotion it was he was supposed to be feeling at that moment. "I know where the OR is."

"Yes but…" Cameron put a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. A trainee nurse interrupted.

"Dr Cameron?" she asked. "The police brought in Jessica Mitchell's purse." The nurse handed over a red leather purse that he recognised as Jess's. She then handed over a small plastic bag. "Her jewellery. We had to take it off before they took her up to…"

"Come on," House interrupted. He reached over and took both bags from Cameron. Looking at the plastic bag made him feel sick, a sickness nothing to do with his hangover. Jess's watch, gold bangle, necklace. Exactly why the little sapphire and diamond ring wasn't in there suddenly made no sense at all. Except it did. Its absence mocked him.

_You really thought you could be happy? _


	16. Chapter 8B

"House."

"Um…Dr House…this is, well, this is Dr Flanagan from St Mary's ER."

House leaned back in his chair. He was used to doctors from other major hospitals calling him for consults. Sounded like this one was fresh out of med school and was appropriately scared about disturbing the renowned Dr House. This could be fun.

"Yes Dr Flanagan. What little problem have you been unable to—"

"There's a patient here who's apparently been asking for you." The ER doctor interrupted, still sounding nervous. "I don't know why, there's nothing unusual about her case."

Suddenly House felt his stomach dip. _This was the problem about having people in your life you cared about. You jumped to conclusions, were vulnerable to being blindsided by…_

"Jess?" House asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Yes, Jessica Mitchell. She's actually the PR officer at the hospital here."

"What happened? Is she okay?" House asked, already rising and grabbing his things together to make it faster to get over there.

"Oh."

House could almost hear the pieces fall into place for the young doctor, suddenly realising that there was an entirely different reason his patient had been asking for the famous doctor. An entirely personal reason. "You should get over here, Dr House," he said urgently.

"I'm on my way."

House hung up the phone and strode as quickly as he possibly could out of his office, ignoring the looks from his team in the conference room.

* * *

--

At the St Mary's ER, House found Dr Flanagan quickly. He'd been right, the doctor was young, but now that he was clear about House's role in the situation, he'd regained his confidence.

"It was a car accident," he explained, pulling House into a more secluded area of the chaotic ER. "From what the police told me, someone ran a red light and hit the side of Jess's car. She's pretty badly banged up, at least three broken ribs, fractured pelvis, broken left tibia, internal bleeding. She had a collapsed lung when they brought her in, but we managed to fix that before she went up to surgery. The paramedics told me that she asked for you when they got to her, but since then she hasn't been conscious."

"She's pregnant," he said quietly. He didn't miss the grimace that flashed across Dr Flanagan's face at that news. But the doctor covered it quickly and nodded. "I'll call the OR and let the surgeon know. But her injuries…"

House nodded curtly, understanding what he was being told without needing to hear the words.

"I'll take you up to the OR," Dr Flanagan offered.

As they started to make their way out of the ER, a nurse came over.

"Are you Jess's partner?" she asked him.

The question took him by surprise. "Yes," he answered simply, the declaration meaning so much and yet so little.

"Here, the police brought in her purse." The nurse handed him a red leather purse that he recognised as Jess's. She then handed him a small plastic bag. "Her jewellery. We had to take it off before they took her up to…"

"Yes, I know," House interrupted. Looking at the plastic bag made House feel sick. Jess's watch, gold bangle, necklace. The little sapphire and diamond ring was at the bottom, looking out at him as a taunt.

_You really thought you could be happy? _


	17. Chapter 9A

**A/N:** Well, here we are at the end - almost! This isn't much of a chapter, because I decided to split the A-storyline final chapter into two pieces, for reasons that will become clear. So this is the first part of the A-storyline ending and you will get the full final chapter of the B-storyline straight away. The rest of this storyline will be up tomorrow. Thanks again all you wonderful people for your reviews. Please keep them coming. I will be very interested to hear your thoughts on the ending(s)!

* * *

--

"House, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

Wilson's words sounded fuzzy. House felt as if he'd taken too many Vicodin. All his reactions were slowed, the responses of his brain working as if in slow motion. Even his leg pain felt dulled.

"She hasn't regained consciousness yet," House said, repeating the last words the ICU doctor had said to him.

Jess lay in the bed in intensive care, connected to as many monitors as Princeton Plainsboro had. Thankfully she was breathing on her own, but her injuries were serious. She wasn't out of the woods yet.

"How is she?"

"Broken leg, broken ribs, collapsed lung, they took out her spleen and had to stitch up a tear in her celiac artery, but no head or spinal injuries."

Wilson let out a breath. "Well, that's something." He paused. "Do you know what happened?"

"She was at my place last night," House began explaining. He shook his head. Yeah, last night, like any other night, Jess had slept by his side and he hadn't realised how precious that was. Of course before that, before they'd gone to sleep, he'd held her hair back as she vomited up close to a bottle of champagne. That was not exactly precious, but made him smile a sad smile.

"I came in this morning and took the car." He gestured at his thigh and Wilson nodded – House preferred his bike in any weather, but if his leg was playing up, the car was a better choice.

"So she took the bike. Her work says she left early because she wasn't feeling well. She was hung over - we both were. Both am," he stumbled, his grammar getting confused and his brain refusing to cooperate. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, a habitual sign of stress.

"It's not your fault House," Wilson said automatically.

"No, it's not," House agreed. "But she was only a block from my place. On my bike. She hadn't ridden a bike regularly for years…" He sounded defeated more than angry.

"Yeah, but if she'd never met you, perhaps she would have bought her own bike and this still could have happened. Fate has a funny way with things. Trust me on that."

"It's her fault she met me," House said, and Wilson narrowed his eyes at the cryptic comment.

.

To be continued...


	18. Chapter 9B

"House, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

Cuddy's words sounded fuzzy, even in the slightly echoing surrounds of the almost empty OR. House felt as if he'd taken too many Vicodin. All his reactions were slowed, the responses of his brain working as if in slow motion. Even his leg pain felt dulled, dulled in comparison to the tearing pain tightening across his chest. He vaguely wondered if he might be having a heart attack.

"She never regained consciousness," House said, repeating the last words the doctor had said to him.

House was sitting on a rolling stool. Jess's body was lying, inhumanly still on the table, covered up to her neck with surgical sheets. House knew what he'd see if he lifted them up. They'd worked for several hours on her, but finally her injuries, the blood loss, it was all too much for her heart. All in vain.

The room had no external windows, but a translucent panel in the ceiling told him that it was no longer daylight.

"I have to call her mother," House said blankly.

Cuddy stood a few steps away and House was glad she hadn't tried to touch him or comfort him. He didn't want to have to hit her and for some reason that felt like what would happen. He vaguely wondered why Cuddy was there instead of Wilson, but then realised that this task might just have been too much for his friend.

"No, you don't have to do that," Cuddy said softly. "The police told her. She's been out in the waiting area with a sister or a cousin or someone. The surgeon gave her the news and I think she's been taken home."

"Oh." House shrugged. That was good. One less thing he had to worry about.

"House…" Cuddy took a step towards him but House could see her shrink away when he looked up and met her eyes. Obviously he looked as desperately strange as he felt.

Cuddy stepped back again and held up her hands, as if House was a wild beast who may turn on her at any time. Which was perhaps fair.

"House," she said more quietly. "You've been in here for nearly an hour. They need to come in and get…_things_ sorted out." Cuddy winced as she belatedly realised it had been a poor choice of words. "I mean, get her…cleaned up." Cuddy shook her head, and House wondered where her normal supreme ability to deal with difficult situations of any kind had disappeared to.

St Mary's Catholic Hospital didn't have an observation room perched above the OR. Instead he'd watched from a window at the side of the room as the surgery had taken place. Watched them work so hard to keep her living for him. He'd seen her heart, cradled in the surgeon's hand as he tried vainly to squeeze it back to life. He'd seen the blood, blood that had been protecting and feeding their baby, as it dripped to the floor. He could still see the weird shape of her left leg under the drape, evidence of the ortho's attempts to repair her broken bones.

When the surgeon had declared time of death House was briefly thankful that they weren't at Princeton Plainsboro, that it wasn't Chase's voice or someone else he knew that he'd forever connect with this. Then he'd had walked slowly into the OR. No one reprimanded him for breaching the sterile barrier. Instead they all avoided looking at him. Which was good, because if he'd seen the pity in their eyes he'd have cracked right then. A nurse had shuffled everyone out, lying crisp green drapes over Jess's mangled body, and left him alone with her.

It was too fresh though. She hadn't been cleaned up the way patients normally were for relatives. The intubation tube was still in her mouth. Her eyelids were taped shut. The sheets that had been pulled over to hide the terrible aftermath of the attempt to save her life were slowly soaking with her blood and viscera.

Their baby was little more than a stumpy collection of ever-dividing cells and had no way to live without its mother's life force. In fact, by New Jersey law it wasn't even considered a person. The other motorist would not be charged with its death. Just Jess's. House recalled his thoughts when he was just getting used to the news; he'd imagined holding a baby, but it wasn't just any baby, it was his child, part of him, and he remembered the sense that it was _right_.

House wondered how anyone could ever be punished for destroying someone's life. He thought Stacy had done it to him and he'd punished her as best he could. But now he knew different.

"…I'm here, I'll help you get through…"

Cuddy was talking, but her words were bouncing into House's ears and then straight out again, their meaning lost.

"…Wilson said you can…."

Meaning lost.

"…and your team…"

Meaning lost.

"…you can take some time…"

_Meaning. Lost. _

He had a picture in his mind from that morning. Jess had come out of the bathroom, smiling at him while he still lay in bed. She'd washed her hair and had her head wrapped in one of those towel turbans that women did. She'd turned on her side and showed him her stomach, asking him if she was showing yet. Which was ridiculous, it was far too early, but it had been one of _those_ moments, one of those freeze-frame moments that you store in your head forever, ones you can take out later and recall in every detail.

Suddenly House realised things had changed. His feet were leading him away from Jess, out of the OR, and Cuddy's arm was around his waist. His face was wet. He didn't know how any of it had happened.

He didn't know how he could ever recover.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket, having pulled it from the plastic bag the nurse had put it in. He held it up to show Cuddy, not entirely sure why. "I wanted it to be forever. In sickness and in health," he said, not sure why he felt the need to verbalise his feelings. Cuddy just nodded and patted his arm consolingly.

So he did the only thing he could do. He put one foot in front of the other and walked. And breathed. And kept going.

.

.

The End (of this storyline)


	19. Chapter 10A

"How's the bike?" Wilson asked, for lack of any better conversation. He settled into the other chair in Jess's room

"Totalled." The police had called to let House know where the wreckage had been towed.

"Did you…?"

"What?"

"I mean, is she, you know, your fiancé?"

House sighed heavily. "No."

"So you have no power over her medical treatment."

"No. I called her mother. She's on her way in. I've met her once before, she's old, getting a bit senile. I think she'll let me make any decisions that have to be made."

Wilson watched as House searched in his jeans pocket for a while and then produced a small, antique ring.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. It was my grandmother's."

"Sapphires and diamonds, isn't it?" Wilson bent over to look more closely. "It's lovely."

House gave Wilson a look that conveyed his contempt for Wilson's girlie appreciation of jewellery, despite the sombre expression on his face.

"So why haven't you asked?"

House gave his head an irritated shake, but he wasn't sure whether he was annoyed by Wilson's question, the fact that he _hadn't_ asked Jess to marry him, or the whole situation. "There was a thing," he said lamely.

"A thing."

"Yeah, she applied for a job here. She sought me out at that conference on purpose to give herself an edge for the job."

"Oh Julie's job? The PR job?"

House nodded.

"Well, I guess an inside running on you would be an advantage." He frowned. "But House, you don't think she faked an entire relationship just to get a job. Really? Because – no offence – but why would anyone want to fake living with you? No pay cheque is worth that."

House grit his teeth. _Yeah, no offence._

Before House could reply their attention was drawn to Jess as she stirred in the bed. She was still not quite conscious, but groaned quietly and shifted her head a little.

House rose from the chair and leaned over her. "Jess? Are you okay?"

She grimaced and let out a small, feeble whimper. The sound went through House's body like a shiver.

"Jess, you're in hospital. You had an accident on the bike, and you got a bit banged up. But everything's okay. You're going to be fine."

Wilson had moved to the bottom of the bed and read her chart. "Sounds to me like she's in pain, House. We can probably give her some more morphine."

House didn't move from his position hovering over Jess. He barely glanced over his shoulder to answer Wilson. "Yes, do that."

Wilson hurried off to collect the medication.

"Stomach hurts…" Jess mumbled without opening her eyes.

"I know, sweetheart. We're just organising some more pain meds for you." House stroked a lock of hair away from her face.

"You shouldn't be here." Jess's words were slurred and murmured, but House had no problem deciphering exactly what she'd said.

"What do you mean?"

Jess frowned again and Wilson returned with the morphine. House gestured for Wilson to hurry up and Wilson went straight to the IV line to administer the drugs.

"Shouldn't be here…" Jess mumbled again. "You don't want baby…"

"What baby?" House asked, startled out of his concern by the comment. He looked up at Wilson who had stopped in the process of inserting the syringe into the line. They shared a wide-eyed expression.

"_Our_ baby," Jess insisted, though weakly. "You don't want me…"

House shook his head at Wilson. He knew that Jess wasn't pregnant and was completely at a loss to explain her comments. Then it clicked; he closed his eyes for a moment.

"She's confused," he explained to Wilson.

He put a hand on Jess's forehead, brushing her hair back, leaning closer to her. "Jess? Listen to me. That was a long time ago. This is _Greg_. There's no baby. You didn't lose another baby. You had a _motorbike accident_. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Staying?" Jess sounded like a child, not just with her one word question, but the vulnerability and desperation in her voice was unlike any tone House had ever heard from her.

"Yes, I'm staying. I'm going to be right here. Forever, if you'll have me."

The faint ghost of a smile crossed Jess's face as she fell back into unconsciousness, the drugs having done their work.

House got up from where he'd been sitting on the bed and moved around to the left-hand side, sitting down carefully next to her. He gently lifted her left hand, being cautious with the IV, and slipped the ring onto her ring finger.

"In sickness and health," he said quietly.

.

The End

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**A/N:** Some of you might have guess by now what inspired this unusual approach. Basically, I had an idea that ended in the O/C character's death. But being the sucker for a happy ending that I am (and I know some of you are too)I wondered how I could do that AND still have a happy ending. Then inspiration struck: have TWO endings!

Thank you so much for your encouragement and reviews. And now, if you want, you can go back and read all the 'A' chapters and then all the 'B' chapters!

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